Diary of a Writer-The Life of Casey Emerson

Confessions of a Clueless Know-It-All: Part 12

noreply@blogger.com (Casey Emerson) — Wed, 02 Sep 2009 15:09:00 +0000

I let her know that Marcus was a lying sack of crap and I wanted to set everything straight. I considered coming here to set the record straight as a favor to her, just as Carolyn had done for me when she came knocking on my door.

I told her that after almost three years of being suspicious of Marcus’s activities, I never had any proof until one of the girls came knocking on my door. It was through no sloppiness on his own, but a girl that was hurt and pissed off enough to show up at my door, that I finally got the confirmation he had been cheating on me, repeatedly. I reassured her that I was not here to break them up. She could use the information I was about to share as she wished.

I started from the beginning, clearing up that when they started seeing each other, Marcus and I were very much together – living together and having sex. She told me that Marcus had made it very clear to her that we were not together – and we were certainly not having sex. I told her that was probably the first of many lies.

Then I confirmed that we had been seeing each other for the past two weeks and that we had had sex – and I was sure he was lying to her about that. She confirmed it, saying that Marcus had told her that we were only friends. “Hmmm,” I said. “That would explain why I found a pair earrings that were not mine on the shelf of his headboard.”

She tried to hide her hurt, but I could see the realization of the situation in her eyes. She didn’t need me to re-iterate what I just told her, she knew those earrings were hers, and I would only know that if I had been on his bed.

She didn’t say much, but I could see she was visibly sick to her stomach. She had heard enough. I again told her she could have him if she wanted, I would never see him again. I stepped toward the door and she followed, opening it. I paused to wish her well, trying not to play the “concerned girl-on-the-side,” knowing she wouldn’t want to hear it.

She never shed a tear in front of me, but I knew she was heartbroken. It would be years later that I would find out she didn’t take my news very well. Of course, neither did Marcus.

Confessions of a Clueless Know-It-All: Part 11

noreply@blogger.com (Casey Emerson) — Sun, 30 Aug 2009 17:00:00 +0000

A girl with blond hair got out. It was her. A young boy, probably early teens, got out of the car, too. Crap. I wasn’t planning on her having her brother with her.

They were practically running into the apartment, carrying fast food bags and sodas. I got out of my car and ran across the parking lot, barely spotting the apartment door closing. Stopping to catch my breath, I thanked God that I didn’t have to go door to door. I was calm, but my heart was racing a mile a minute.

I had never done anything like this before and was terrified of confrontation. Then I reminded myself how grateful I was for Carolyn knocking on my door. Now I wanted to pay it forward.

Once I took a deep breath of courage, I didn’t hesitate, I didn’t pause. I went right up to the door and knocked.

I could hear the irritation in her voice that someone was knocking on her door just as she had walked in, “Who is it?”

“Sharon, it’s Casey,” knowing she knew my name.

She opened the door, and rested her hand on her hip. Just like the new girlfriend of your ex-boyfriend would when she knows a speech is coming. I told her I had some information about Marcus that I was sure she wanted to hear.

I looked over her shoulder and noticed the young boy sitting at her dining room table. I asked her if there was somewhere private we could talk. She flatly stated we could talk inside.

She pulled her arm back, begrudgingly inviting me in. I stepped inside and watched her close the door. She invited me to sit at the table, but I politely declined. She sat, looking exhausted and irritated at the same time.

I promised her that I wouldn’t stay long and I was not here to win Marcus back. I simply wanted to let her in on what had been going on.

I asked her if she wanted to discuss this in front of her guest, and she said that whatever I had to say I could say in front of her brother.

So I took a deep breath and started talking.

Confessions of a Clueless Know-It-All: Part 10

noreply@blogger.com (Casey Emerson) — Fri, 28 Aug 2009 16:55:00 +0000

I convinced Ross to tell me where Sharon lived so I could save her from the same crap I had gone through. He wasn’t hip on it, but eventually gave in. I gave him my word that I would never tell Marcus he disclosed the information that would lead me to her.

This was easy to fake since I was in real estate and could access public records. I could have eventually found her name on a renters list; it was just quicker to get it from Ross.

When Marcus walked me to the door, he said he would call me. I told him, “No, I don’t think so, you’re gonna have to call someone else for a booty call.” He sighed, making it obvious he thought I was the pain in the ass. He had no idea that I was about to pay it forward.

I gotta hand it to Marcus, he was good at manipulating girls to get what he wanted. I would find out later that that Marcus met Sharon at his old job. They started seeing each other about six months before we broke up. According to Ross, Marcus had convinced Sharon that we were only living together until each of us could find a place to live – and we were definitely not having sex. Ha!

Now I didn’t feel so bad. She was as clueless as I was, but I was convinced as ever to do her the same favor that a girl had done for me.

Within a few days, I made plans to confront her about Marcus. One evening after work, I waited in the parking lot of her apartment complex. The same apartment complex that Marcus and I had lived in. Oh man, he was good.

When they first started dating, she had been living in a completely different part of town about twenty minutes away. Marcus convinced her they could spend more time together if she lived closer to him. Now, living in the same apartment complex that he and I did, she was less than five minutes away from his condo. She was at his beck and call whenever he wanted her.

Armed with the information from Ross, I watched for her car to pull into the driveway. There was only one problem. The complex was huge and there were three entrances. I should have parked on the main street leading to the complex, but I didn’t want to be that obvious.

Instead, I went on a hunch and guessed at what driveway she would use. I parked and waited for her to come home. It was getting late and I had been waiting almost two hours. Finally, around dusk, I saw her car pull into the parking lot.

Confessions of a Clueless Know-It-All: Part 9

noreply@blogger.com (Casey Emerson) — Wed, 26 Aug 2009 15:51:00 +0000

I could have left immediately upon seeing that bikini, but now that I wasn’t so emotionally attached to Marcus, I wanted to see if I would handle myself better. After all I had given to Marcus, there had to be something in it for me.

In the nearly two years since I had last seen him I had grown into a stronger woman and had begun to learn to leverage that strength to get men to do what I wanted, not the other way around as it had been with Marcus.

So I stuck around, even after finding out about the bathing suit, to find out what it would it would be like for a bit of role reversal. I was in the position to say no without hesitation, and Marcus knew it. It was my time to make him bend to my needs.

Of course we had sex, but this time I wasn’t so eager to please him. He noticed. When I didn’t make the effort to make sure he got his, he gave me mine first. Progress, I thought.

He asked to see me again. It still didn’t feel right, but I agreed. When I showed up the following week, there was no bathing suit in the bathroom, but there were a pair of earrings on a shelf of the headboard. Staring at me as bright as day – “Hello sunshine!” I asked Marcus about them – but as usual, he voiced some lame attempt at explaining them away. He sensed my hesitation and made just enough effort to get me to stay with some affection and sweet words.

Although we had established that he and Sharon were broken up, I couldn’t hear his attempted sincerity over the voice screaming in my head. We had sex again, but this time he wasn’t so eager to play along with my “me first” game. It was obvious he wasn’t keen on my demands and only appeased me the first time because he thought it would be the only time.

Little did he know, that would be the last time. I finally realized there was nothing wrong with me, he was just an ass. I tried to act normal during the few hours I was there, but I was really done with the game.

When I had a moment alone with Ross, I plugged him for information. I asked who Marcus was seeing. Ross confirmed it was the ex – they had broken up, but she was still coming over – and “very recently” was all he would say. After seeing those earrings, I knew it had to be Sharon. Only girlfriends leave earrings, one night stands never do. Marcus was playing me and Sharon, and it was time to pay it forward.

Confessions of a Clueless Know-It-All: Part 8

noreply@blogger.com (Casey Emerson) — Mon, 24 Aug 2009 16:41:00 +0000

So here we are, almost two years after breaking up and he calls. I was convinced he would confess he was an ass for letting me go and that he loves me, wants to be with me - for real this time - and will never look at another girl.

Not exactly how it went...

While he admitted that he missed me, he never apologized for being an ass, nor professed his undying love and stupidity for letting me go. He cut to the chase, asking if we could get together at his place to talk.

I asked, “Don’t you have a girlfriend?”

“We broke up.”

“When.”

“About two months ago.”

Something didn’t feel right, but I said yes. I was curious to see if I would still get those bad gut feelings around him.

Those old gut feelings crept in the minute I walked in the door. Actually, they started the moment I found out he called my dad’s house looking for me. They got stronger when I spoke to him on the phone, even stronger when I got in the car to drive to his place. By the time I walked in the front door, they were screaming at me to turn and run in the opposite direction.

Thanks to the petite, two-piece bathing suit hanging in his bathroom, my gut was practically wrenching. I touched it. It was slightly damp, which told me it must have been from the night before – or worse – earlier that day. I confronted him about it. He said the bathing suit was from a girl he was friends with at school. She came over to study with him and they hit the Jacuzzi. She had forgotten to take her bikini with her when she left.

I didn’t buy it, and I seriously wondered if he pulled this crap on purpose. You know: feed the jealousy, get more p*^^%. While I did consider he might have been telling the truth, it felt more like BS. I let it slide – for the moment – wondering if I would ever be able to validate my gut feelings.

I was desperate for the truth, so while Marcus was in the bathroom, I asked Ross if he knew Marcus was seeing someone. He confirmed what Marcus already told me; he had recently broken up with his girlfriend.

Then he dropped a bombshell.

He confessed this was the same girl that Marcus had started seeing while he and I were still living together. While the news itself was shocking, it was no big surprise – I had become pretty numb to betrayal by now.

Ross begged me not to tell Marcus, he didn’t want him to know he had betrayed their friendship. How ironic. I promised it would remain our secret.

Ross had one more piece of advice for me – get away from Marcus. He told me what everyone else and their mother had already told me - that Marcus was a jerk and I deserved better.

For a brief moment, I had the chance to see the good side of Ross. I would look at him differently, in a good way, from that moment on.

Confessions of a Clueless Know-It-All: Part 7

noreply@blogger.com (Casey Emerson) — Mon, 13 Jul 2009 13:03:00 +0000

When we broke up, Marcus moved in with Ross, into a new condo down the street. It was the perfect bachelor pad for them. Best friends back to their old habits of acting like conspirators and secretly congratulating each other for being pricks.

Although Marcus and I had broken up – I wasn’t ready to quit him. We saw each other, casually, for about six months. We never went anywhere publicly; we just had sex at his place or my place. I assumed he was dating and he never admitted that he already had a new girlfriend. I took what I could get, even if it meant sharing his bed with other girls. Turns out, he did have a girlfriend, Sharon, whom he had started seeing while we were still living together (of course, I wouldn’t find out until months later).

I knew that we were never going to “officially” get back together, but somehow I thought it would be different once I turned twenty-one in a few months. I asked him to come to my birthday party, but he said he had plans. I begged and pleaded until he finally agreed to stop by. This was a huge deal to me, but it obviously meant nothing to him. In my cluelessness, I thought that once I turned twenty-one, we could finally go to bars together; thus hanging out together more often. He made it clear that wasn’t going to happen. We were done - we were just having sex.

I was crushed.

He left my birthday party after spending only fifteen minutes with me. Of course, this is what he had in fact been doing our entire one-sided relationship, but it didn’t hit me until he s-p-e-l-l-e-d it out: he was never emotionally involved, he was just u-s-i-n-g me.

I had myself a good cry and was finally ready to move on. He called a few weeks later for a booty call. I told him to get lost. Truthfully, it wasn’t all me. He was as sick of my accusations and insecurity as I was of his cheating and emotional detachment.

I started dating other guys soon after ending it with Marcus, looking for excuses to be preoccupied with other guys, but I wouldn’t have a serious relationship until years later. It took me a good two years to flush him out of my system. Then he called me.

Actually, he called my dad’s house. I had moved out months earlier, so my dad passed on the message when I called one day to say hi to the family. You should have heard the tone in my dad’s voice when he told me he called. It was that "no-good, pompous, cheating bastard, I’ll shove my rifle up his ass” tone.

I called Marcus that day my dad gave me the message. I vividly remember smiling when I dialed his number, knowing that he was going to apologize for being such an ass and beg me to take him back.

Mmm, not quite.

Confessions of a Clueless Know-It-All: Part 6

noreply@blogger.com (Casey Emerson) — Sun, 05 Jul 2009 15:48:00 +0000

He was so cute and when he stood at my front door an hour late for our first date – and hardly apologetic - I agreed to go out with him anyway. My dad knew he was bad news from that moment on.

A few weeks later, when Marcus came over for dinner, my dad led Marcus, ceremoniously, to the den to have a little chat with him. I wasn’t sure I was invited, but I followed anyway.

As they walked into the den, my dad directed Marcus to sit in the chair that had a perfect view of his gun collection. I sat on the couch, half-curious and half-scared how things would play out. The moment my boyfriend saw the gun collection I think he quietly winced to keep from shitting his pants.

I watched my dad, who proceeded to outline the obvious concern about the age difference, very bluntly noting that he knew exactly why a 22-year-old man would want to date a 17-year-old girl. My dad could be very intimidating and I could see Marcus’s face drain of color, going ghostly white.

My dad made it clear that I did not have to do anything I didn't want to do - and if Marcus made me do anything I didn’t want to do, one of those rifles would be up his ass.

“Understand?” He said with supremacy.

“Yes, sir.” Marcus said obediently.

In that tense moment of Marcus holding his retracted arm near my face (see Part 4), I’m sure that conversation with my dad crossed his mind. It didn’t matter how much he wanted to hit me; he didn’t want that rifle up his ass. My dad was one tough mo-fo, and Marcus knew if he hit me, he would have to deal with my father. At that moment his fear outweighed his anger.

When he lowered his arm in defeat, I had, for the first time, gotten the upper hand in the relationship.

It was over. I called my dad, crying, and asked if I could move home. Of course, he said yes.

We spent the next 30 days riding out the end of our lease. I remember very little about this time, other than we hardly spoke to each other and I slept on the couch.

On moving day, Marcus was the first one to move out, taking almost everything – even if we had bought it together. With Ross’s help he was out of the apartment by 11am. I asked him to help me move my stuff and clean the apartment so we could get our security deposit back - he said he would be back in a few hours.

He never returned.

I shouldn't have been surprised when he left me hanging. I called my mom and asked for emergency backup. Thanks to me and my mom, the ass got half of his security deposit back.

Although I could tell my mom was pissed, she didn't make a stink about it since this was the end. She rarely saw Marcus in the three years we were together - once, maybe twice - yet, she didn't like him anymore than my dad did.

My guess is that Marcus kept his distance because he didn't want a rifle up his ass. Of course, it probably didn't feel too good to have a hole burning in the back of his head from the resentful glares of those who were trying to protect me.

Everyone knew he was no good. I might have been clueless, but deep down, I knew it too.

Confessions of a Clueless Know-It-All: Part 5

noreply@blogger.com (Casey Emerson) — Wed, 01 Jul 2009 00:47:00 +0000

I met him at a party at my girlfriend’s house. I found out later that he had his eye on me for some time during that party. I hadn’t even noticed him.

He was the little brother of my girlfriend’s mother’s boyfriend. Did you catch that? The weird twist was that my girlfriend, Katelyn, had a crush on him and was hurt when he was scoping me out. I knew nothing about this at the time, but it would end up being one of the many factors why my friendship with Katelyn would become strained. She desperately wanted to land him, but he had his eye on me.

Years later, after our friendship had ended, Katelyn told me it was hard to be friends with me because all the guys wanted me. What? That was news to me. Honestly, I had no idea because it seemed like all the guys I wanted, never wanted me.

Besides, Katelyn seemed to be pretty good at landing guys – and most of the guys she dated, I didn’t want, even if they wanted me.

There was this one guy...we'll call him Scott.

They had been casually dating when he hit on me at a gig one night. They weren’t exclusive, so he didn’t go out of his way to hide his interest in me. I was polite and kept the conversation going, but I had no intention of having sex with him.

I could see the hurt in my girlfriend’s eyes as she watched him flirt with me. I assured her on the way home that I had no intention of getting together with him. Scott, on the other hand, would try for quite some time to change my mind.

Before I started dating Marcus my senior year in high school, Katelyn and I would hang out every weekend. She introduced me to the infamous band scenes of San Diego and LA. That’s how I met Scott. We often went to see his band play, and obviously, since he was dating my girlfriend, I saw him often.

One night, after heading back to Katelyn’s house, she got on the phone with him to see if she could arrange a late night romp. I was more interested in catching some ZZZ's so I headed to my make-shift bed - the couch. After a few minutes on the phone with Scott, she yelled from her room that Scott wanted to talk to me.

I thought it was disrespectful, so I declined. I knew she liked him, even if she acted like it was okay he was flirting with me. NO girl could be okay with her guy wanting her best friend.

When I declined to talk to him, he asked her to pass on a message to me. What was the message?

Honestly, I didn't care, but she told me anyway. “He wants you to know you should have sex with him because he would give you the hardest f%$k of your life.”

I knew I didn’t want to know.

How could any guy think that a message like that would convince me he was too good to pass up?

He was as clueless as I was.

Confessions of a Clueless Know-It-All: Part 4

noreply@blogger.com (Casey Emerson) — Sat, 20 Jun 2009 15:01:00 +0000

From then on, I still played the dutiful girlfriend, but with bouts of rebellion. When he asked what we were having for dinner, I’d tell him to get off his ass and make it himself. When he asked for blowjobs while he watched basketball, I refused.

Like it was okay for him to asking that to begin with. What an ass.

On laundry day, I began leaving his clothes in the hamper – washing only my clothes. The first time I did that, he blew a fuse. I ended up doing his laundry - it was better to pick another fight. And another fight we would have.

One day while I was folding laundry and he was sitting on his ass watching basketball, he started hounding me about giving him money for bills. I had been short on cash that week, so he paid my share of the bills until I got paid again in two weeks.

That was the other thing – how we split the bills. He made more than $15,000 per year more than me, but the rent and bills were split right down the middle, 50/50. I thought he was just frugal, I didn’t realize I was clueless. It didn’t matter that my entire paycheck went to rent, bills and groceries while he had at least an extra $800 per month.

Ever since I smelled another girl in our bed, I could feel something brewing in me….and that day, it came to a head.

That day was the last day I was in the mood to take crap from him, but he wouldn’t let up. “I need the money, Casey – you need to pay me,” he demanded. I warned him to leave it alone because I could not tolerate his demands; we could talk about it tomorrow. He got out of his chair, got in my face and wouldn’t let up. Before I could control my anger, I belted him across the arm with the plastic hanger that was in my hand.

He was beyond pissed. He retracted his arm as if he was going to backhand me. Standing my ground, I dared him: “Go ahead – see what happens.”

I’m not sure what ran across his mind. Maybe he recalled the conversation he had with my dad a few years earlier (it was really more like a speech since my dad didn’t give him much chance to speak).

Marcus was 22 when we started dating – I was only 17. Having been a young man himself, my dad knew exactly what Marcus was after. Why do 22-year-old guys date girls in high school? Tight ass, perky boobs and an eagerness to please, that’s why. Only after a few weeks of dating, my dad insisted on meeting him.

To give credit to my dad, he was right to want to meet him so quickly. After all, Marcus had not made a good impression. The night of our first date, Marcus was an hour late. No phone call, no nothing. I was eyeing the clock and watching T.V. to pass the time. When he was 45 minutes late, my dad asked if he was coming. I said I didn’t know. I had pretty much written him off, telling myself I wouldn’t give him a second shot.

When he showed up at the front door, an hour late, he acted as if nothing had happened. I was crushed. But damn he was cute.

Part 5 coming soon....

Confessions of a Clueless Know-It-All: Part 3

noreply@blogger.com (Casey Emerson) — Sun, 14 Jun 2009 15:48:00 +0000

It was pretty obvious what was going on, but I was blissfully ignorant in my cluelessness. I ignored the signs and pushed away the bad gut feelings when they crept in. I didn’t want to admit that I loved a man that didn’t give a shit about me. I was devoted, he was deceitful. I was in love, he was there for the home cooked meals, ironed shirts and a piece of ass.

Ouch. The truth hurts.

Eventually, the whole thing started to wear on me.

He was very careful never to leave any evidence. Suspicions didn’t count and there was no evidence to prove it. A few times I did some snooping when he was out of the house, but I never found anything.

Until one day I came home after spending the day with my mom to find Marcus had cleaned our apartment. He never cleaned anything. And although it had been cleaned I could swear I smelled the remnants of another girl.

Then I saw he had made the bed. He never made the bed. Nevertheless, I doubted my suspicions before I doubted him since he had so effectively trained me to do so. Every time I questioned him, he would turn it around on me and tell me I was being paranoid or psycho. Eventually, I began to believe that I was imagining it all. This time, however, I was having trouble buying it.

I examined his appearance – he was freshly showered; shampooed hair and all. I said, “Wow, you vacuumed and made the bed, you never do that.” He smiled, saying he wanted to do something nice for me.

Hmm. He never did anything nice for me because he was a selfish prick.

Guess he was hoping I would ignore the big marquee that was hanging over his head. It was like those old movie theatre marquees with big, bright lights. It was blinking the word “Cheater!” with a bright red arrow pointing right to him. It was impossible to ignore.

The next day, I woke up to see that blinking marquee again, hanging on the wall over our bed. Our bed. The bed that we made love in. It read, “Girl on the side was here.”

It would all go downhill from there. He had gotten sloppy and brought a girl home to our bed. I knew I smelled her perfume. I knew I smelled sex in the room. For the first time I looked at him as if he wasn’t fooling me anymore. I was disgusted and never again ignored the “Cheater” marquee that would forever hang over his head.

stay tuned for Part 4...

Confessions of a Clueless Know-It-All: Part 2

noreply@blogger.com (Casey Emerson) — Sat, 06 Jun 2009 17:26:00 +0000

Confessions of a Clueless Know-It-All: Part 2

Like the time Marcus and Ross had that look in their eyes while secretly planning a party at a local hotel for Marcus’s 25th birthday. Well, it was a secret until I found out about it a few weeks into the planning. It was that look in their eyes that gave them away. It didn’t take much prodding before they filled me in on all the details; minus the hotel name and room number - I wasn't invited, after all. Marcus gloated in his arrogance, while I tried to hide a broken heart.

We had been dating for over a year and were living together. We were living together, and my boyfriend was planning a party that I wasn’t invited to. I knew that if I wasn't invited, that meant there would be girls, I just wasn’t sure if that meant that he would be waking up with one – or two – in his hotel bed. Talk about being clueless.

In all honesty, I wasn’t sure if he had a steady girl on the side or if he just wanted one night of freedom to act like an ass. I’ll never know for sure, because details of the party were never shared with me. I am, however, sure that Marcus and Ross made a pact to keep the happenings of that party secret. Marcus wouldn’t come home until much later the next day, hungover and reluctant to discuss the details.

I accepted the fact that I wasn’t included in all areas of his life, even if I didn’t like it. I gave him space thinking that by being "the understanding girlfriend" I would win his heart.

Did I mention I was clueless?

I was growing increasingly resentful of his jerky ways; but I still didn’t have the strength to stand up to him because I knew he would break it off. I wish now that I would have pushed him to break it off. Hindsight is always 20/20.

I deserved better, he didn't. I cooked him dinner, I waited on his friends when they visited, I did his laundry, I even ironed his shirts - all before we even lived together.

One Saturday morning, after spending the night at Marcus's apartment, I was ironing his shirts for the upcoming work week. I was ironing his shirts. We weren’t living together, I had no engagement ring, not even a serious commitment. What was Marcus doing while I was ironing? Watching T.V.

When Ross emerged from his room, he took in the scene, his soft smile growing into a wide grin. Shaking his head in amazement, he asked Marcus how he did it? (Meaning how did he train me so well...) Marcus smiled proudly, saying something about him being “that good.”

I should have been disgusted, but I, too, was proud; proud that I was playing the good girlfriend. I wanted his friends to be jealous that he had such a cool domestic slave – I mean girlfriend.

To this day, I do not iron – not even for myself. I don’t defend my anti-ironing ways, because these days, it’s an unspoken awareness. The guys I date generally know I don't iron, so they don’t ask. Only on a few occasions has a guy misinterpreted my generous domestic nature and ask me to iron a shirt or two. It didn’t take long for him to understand never to ask that question again.

stay tuned...Part 3 coming soon

Confessions of a Clueless Know-It-All: Part 1

noreply@blogger.com (Casey Emerson) — Sun, 31 May 2009 17:59:00 +0000

I've been really lame about updating my blog the past six months, so I thought it high time I start sharing what I've been working on. Here's a sneak peek into one of the projects I'm working on right now - a collection of short stories based on life experiences - appropriately entitled Confessions of a Clueless Know-It-All.

*Names have been changed to protect the identity of unwilling participants.* lol.

Confessions of a Clueless Know-It-All: Part 1

He was a jerk. I was clueless. Not a match made in heaven.

We fought. He cheated. I cried. That would be the one and only crappy relationship I so cowardly failed to end. I could be bitter (and I was for a few years), but instead I took everything I learned from that screwed up relationship and vowed never to do it again.

You could say he ruined it for the rest of my boyfriends, because I learned many tricks of the trade. I never again dated guys I suspected of having cheating tendencies. If I had suspicions about their fidelity or level of emotional involvement, I called it off when I recognized potential tricks of the trade, and before I found out what I didn’t want to know.

I learned to use those “bad gut feelings” I had with Marcus, as my guidance system in future relationships. Any time I felt those pangs come back, no matter what guy I was dating at the time, I listened to them. Honestly, they would only come back a few times over my ongoing dating career, because I learned to steer clear of likely cheaters from the beginning. If I got a bad feeling upon meeting a guy, I didn’t even go out with them on a single date. If a putz happened to slip under my radar, I would recognize him as such by the third date.

That’s the thing about some women: they claim they never knew their boyfriend was a cheating ass. The truth is they knew deep down, they just chose to ignore it. There are signs – clear signs – and choosing to ignore them is the same as choosing to be clueless. I should know.

I dated Marcus for over 3 years with another 6 months of casual sex while he was dating a new girl. I doubted his fidelity within the first few months of our first date, when he showed up an hour late. Everything after that was built on insecurity and emotional betrayal.

I remember being in his apartment that he shared with his best friend, Ross. I was still in high school at the time, a senior, and my dad was cool enough to allow me to stay the night. I don’t think he liked it, but I was less than 3 months away from turning 18. What could he do - lock me in my room? My mother would have never allowed it, but that is another story.

Speaking of story – I should get back to mine.

So, it was a typical Friday afternoon and I had obediently gone to Marcus’s place immediately upon receiving his phone call. I walked in as he was chatting with Ross, who was fussing with a dozen red roses on the kitchen counter.

I said, “Ooh, nice flowers.” He thanked me and explained they were for his girlfriend, Donna. I thought that was so sweet of him, so I said, “That’s sweet of you to buy her roses.”

Marcus and Ross exchanged a quick smirk. I watched them; realizing there was some kind of inside joke. Asking them about it, Marcus quickly confessed that Ross had received them from a girl at work, and was “gifting” them to his girlfriend. I was floored. I looked at Ross and asked, “You got flowers from another girl and you’re giving them to your girlfriend?”

As he was pulling out the small card he received with the roses, he said with a confident smirk, “Yep! Isn’t that cool?” He tore up the card into small pieces and stuffed it deep into the trashcan, hiding the evidence of his deceit. They broke into an intense laughing session. I shook my head at them, half disgusted, and regrettably, half amused. Disgusted that they thought it was so cool to be complete asses, yet amused at their shocking audacity.

Soon after, Donna arrived and saw the roses on the counter. Ross picked them up and carried them to her, saying he picked them out especially for her. She was teary-eyed with gratefulness. As they hugged, Ross looked over her shoulder at Marcus. They exchanged a “me-man, me-so-cool” look, as if they were the cleverest of conspirators. I would come to know that look in their eyes when they congratulated each other for getting away with something so hurtful. Some of which would be at my expense.

stay tuned, part 2 coming soon...

Meghan McCain Needs to Shut the Hell Up

noreply@blogger.com (Casey Emerson) — Tue, 03 Mar 2009 15:51:00 +0000

Okay, this really pisses me off. While the economy is going in the tanker and people are losing their jobs and homes, Meghan McCain is bitching about her non-existent dating life. Here's an excerpt from her latest blogpost on TheDailyBeast.com:

Somewhere in between college and the election, I started allowing politics to dictate the kind of men I date. And the worst part is, it’s not just Obama supporters who turn me off—it’s often my father’s.

The election killed my personal life.

OK, maybe killed is a bit of an exaggeration. But it does seem to be on life support. Of all the things people warned would happen post-election, no one ever said anything about how complicated dating would become. Especially if your dad loses the election. There are things that have been difficult, but nothing quite as tough as dating. I fear the election has destroyed my ability and desire to date.

Oh, poor Meghan. Waa, waa, boo hoo. I rarely get this fired up and I was totally ready to start a group on Facebook called "Meghan McCain Needs to Shut the Hell Up." I got so close as clicking on the Create a New Group button when I read the official fb disclosure that read something to the effect of, "....attacks on a specific person or group will not be tolerated and will result in immediate deletion of your profile."

Damn. That pissed me off even more.

I went back to the Meghan's blogpost and kept reading:

I know that no one can really explain sexual attraction and why you are drawn to someone or not—but at this point in time, nothing kills my libido quite like discussing politics.

Here's the biggest surprise: I am not only turned off by people who voted for Barack Obama, but I am also turned off by people that voted for my dad—or more so, obsessive supporters of my dad.......I have the ultimate Catch-22 in post-election dating. So where does that leave me, and who exactly am I attracted to? Let’s just say I’m spending a lot of time writing and even more time with my girlfriends.

You'd think as a fellow single gal, I'd have some compassion for her dating plights....but I don't. So what, she'll be celibate until the next election when there are candidates, other than her father, to discuss. She'll still have a hefty spending allowance, a beautiful house to live in and a fat trust fund. Does she even need a job? God forbid some publisher see dollar signs in a book deal and release, Memoirs of a Presidential Candidate's Celibate Daughter. Judging by some of the comments left on her blogpost, other readers don't have sympathy either. Here are just a few -

-------------
Johnny-Boy

UNBELIEVABLE!

"Of all the things people warned would happen post-election, no one ever said anything about how complicated dating would become."

Please Meghan, tell us all how hard your life is. I am so sick of reading how this "poor little rich girl" sees life. She has been handed everything in life, from having a choice of mansions to gow up in, to the fat trust fund with her name on it.

-----------------

dearlizzie

Please, can we dispense with the inane pablum from Ms. McCain? Unless this is intended to mock the dimwitted daughter of the man who ranked seventh from the bottom of his class at Annapolis, this is a waste of space (even if it is eternally elastic cyber space). Regardless, I got my schadenfreude-style kicks out of her previous columns and now they are too, too dull.

---------------

enigmagnetic

Wah...

---------------

warreno

"I am also turned off by people that voted for my dad-or more so, obsessive supporters of my dad."

Well yes. I wouldn't want to date any 80-year-old men either.

Meghan, seriously: Get over it.

-------------

I agree.

My Favorite Part About Inauguration Day...

noreply@blogger.com (Casey Emerson) — Fri, 30 Jan 2009 20:11:00 +0000

Was seeing the backend of Bush.

Some people say they loved the inspiring inauguration speech given by Obama, while others say they feel hopeful for a brighter future. Me? I loved seeing the behind of Bush heading back to Texas. Of course, my hatred for Bush isn't necessarily justified since he wasn't the one really running the country. Good old Dick (Dick Cheney) is gone too - and for that I am especially grateful. Dick.

I find it despicable that the economy has tanked, yet Exxon posted their biggest profit ever, $45.2 billion dollars. Thank you GW and staff for putting money in the pockets of the few at the expense of the whole. Their friends are rich, while the country is broke.

I was discussing this very issue with my mom the day after the inauguration and I told her that we allowed everything during this presidency to happen. The fact remains that public opinion (or outcry) affect political conduct. We allowed him to enter office, even after the Florida voting controversy. We allowed him to take us to war. We allowed our economy to be drained. And then we re-elected him. Everything that has happened has been allowed to happen. People still get lynched in the South for being black, but we can't seem to prevent a president to enter office following an election corruption? Where are our priorities?

I still remember the cover of a British magazine with a headline asking how 18 million Americans could be so stupid. I totally agreed. Of course, I didn't vote for Bush and never have. Why? Because it's a known fact that they have too many special interests to support - none of which are in the interest of the betterment of the citizens of this country. But I could go on for days about why I don't support the Bush family. (The voting fiasco in Florida is enough to realize how much manipulating power they have - including making formal charges quietly go away....)

Not for decades has the Republican Party actually administered a leadership true to what the Republican Party is supposed to stand for. It's bad enough to fail to stick to what you say you're going to do, but to take the Oath of Office and directly break that oath is despicable.

But something was different with Obama. I teared up watching him take his Oath of Office, and believe that he is the first president in a long, long time that truly believes in maintaining the integrity of that oath. And for that simple, yet magnanimous act, I believe he will be revered as one of the greatest presidents of our time.

"...Starting today, we must pick ourselves up, dust ourselves off, and begin again the work of remaking America..."
Barack Obama, inaugurational speech, Jan. 20, 2009.

Queen Grandmother Guilt

noreply@blogger.com (Casey Emerson) — Sat, 18 Oct 2008 20:43:00 +0000

I shouldn’t be airing family gossip online, but I’ve just got to get this one out. If you aren't privy to your own family guilt, which is bestowed on anyone weak enough to tolerate it, consider yourself lucky.

Guilt happens to be one of the most common man-made emotions flung at any family member who’s in the path of its trajectory. It reminds me of that green slimy goop my aunt used to buy me for my birthday and holidays. It served no purpose except staining the walls and carpet with a neon green residue. It kept me entertained, but drove my parents nuts.

I’m sure that’s why she bought it. It was her duty as an unwed and childless aunt to torture my parents with the only child they had. I don’t blame her. It was amusing to watch my mother deal with all the inventive toys she bought for me.

But to get back to my point, guilt is one of those things that reminds me of the that green goop. You can pull the goop off the wall or out of the carpet, but you can never remove all the residue. The guilt keeps getting tossed, and you keep getting hit - until you've got stains of guilty green goop all over you.

My mom hasn’t been feeling well lately, and as a result, her appetite has been next to nil. Just as my grandmother and I sat down to eat, my grandmother said in a matter-of-fact statement (with lots of guilt…..), “Your mother isn't having dinner.” I immediately picked up her guilt flinging statement, after all, my grandmother made dinner for us all - if my mother wasn’t eating it was like a slap in the face to my grandmother. I was tempted to say something to bring the guilt flinging to the surface, but I let it go. I also thought about giving a consoling look to my mom, but was very conscious that my grandmother was watching me for a reaction. Instead of adding fuel to the fire, I simply said, “Okay.”

What I really wanted to say was something like, “Okay, mom doesn’t feel good and she doesn’t have to eat if she doesn’t want to. Aren't you tired of flinging guilt trips already? It's got to be exhausting - you've been doing it your entire life!” It wouldn’t even cross my mind to make my daughter feel guilty because she didn’t feel well. You don’t feel well, you don’t feel like eating, that’s okay. But no, making your daughter feel guilty about not feeling well and not having an appetite is much more constructive.

I have friends who were raised with the same asinine guilt trips, and sometimes from more than one family member. It’s BS. Flinging guilt does nothing constructive. It causes self-doubt, low self-esteem and puts mental and physical stress on someone who shouldn’t be apologizing for unknowingly (or purposely) breaking the arbitrary rules set by someone who finds it necessary to control the events and people around them to feed their own insecurity.

How's that! Queen Grandmother Guilt....

Quote of the Day...
No one can make you feel inferior without your consent.
Eleanor Roosevelt

Working Hard at Getting Fired...

noreply@blogger.com (Casey Emerson) — Sat, 04 Oct 2008 18:20:00 +0000

So I don't need to tell you that it sucks to be an employee....

You have to smile and say "thank you" every time a client acts like an a-hole, when deep down, you really want to create a comedic scene worthy of "Video of the Week" on YouTube. As if dealing with butthead customers isn't enough you inevitably have to deal with your coworkers.

We all know the type, there's the psycho, know-it-all, clown, and lazy-ass. I've had to work with them all - it's no wonder I got fired from a few jobs over my life. It's hard enough to deal with one type of customer or coworker, but you have to deal with about 20 dips a day. That's enough for anyone to sabotage your work ethic.

Of course, I could have been smart by quitting and saving myself the headache of having "terminated" on my resume....but I was never one for taking the easy road.

Just when I thought I had had bad days at work, I came across some stories about getting fired on Bored.com. This is funny stuff....PS. The misspellings are funny too.

~~~~~~
I Hate Costomers
a costermer was mean to me, so i threw a hot dog at him while he wasnt looking. i got fired...
~~~~~~
cheese to the face
two of my friends from work at a buger king were getting in alot of fights. they got separated from working in the kitchen to one working the register and one working in the kitchen. my friend on the register, lets call him frank, was taking an order. my freind in the kitchen, lets call him bob, was behind him with a peice of cheese. bob threw the cheese at frank as he leaned over to get some bbq sauce from under the counter and hit the customer right in the face. they were both fired.
~~~~~~
awesomeness!!!
So I was biking to work one day and some loser runs into me. I flip him off and keep going. Later that day, i went to the doctor's to check out my arm, it was REALLY bruised, and he tells me I broke it. I show up at work a little later and low and behold, the guy that hit me was my boss. Oh joy. I was fired, and he started ranting on about how a broken arm is no reason to leave work. Blah blah blah.
~~~~~~
HEHE
My friend got fired from MacDonalds after giving everyone in our street free Mc Flurrys.
~~~~~~
streak
i worked on set for a movie as an cameraman, and for fun, i brought my friend along to see the filming. he ended up finding the refreshment stand. while filming, he somehow managed to take off his clothes and streak across the set on camera. he was DRUNK. of course, i was fired for lack of control over my friend. thanks buddeh.
~~~~~~

And of course, I'm no exception to doing things worthy of getting fired.

At the age of 15, I got my first job at the local Carl's Jr. I was working the drive-thru one day when I couldn't seem to get this girl's order right. Something about no onions, extra ketchup, no tomato.... Anyway, when I repeated the order incorrectly for the third time, she called me a "stupid b!&$h." I was shocked. Not only did my coworkers heard it, but so did the customers standing in line.

I quickly debated whether I should punch her lights out when she got to the drive-thru window, but I didn't want to fired from my very first job. (My aversion to getting fired would eventually lessen over the years....)

Instead of punching her when she got to the window, I smiled and said $2.47 please. She handed me her money and in return I handed over her food and drink - all with a smile. She looked at me with suspicion.

I had every reason to smile....Her hamburger was made only after the patty and fixins were "accidentally" dropped on the floor and we had a food fight with the pickles. And I'm pretty sure the cook spit on her hamburger patty before wrapping it up.....

We laughed for hours after that and it wouldn't be the last time we did something like that to a butthead customer. To this day, I still wonder if she ate that meal or decided it was best it just go in the trash. hee hee.

Just for the record, I didn't get fired from Carl's Jr. I got fired from other jobs for doing much less worse actions from much more "respectable" work places.

Quote for the Day...
Never piss off the people who handle your food. They will always win.
Former Carl's Jr. Employee

My Ex Broke My Heart and Stole My Football Card Collection

noreply@blogger.com (Casey Emerson) — Tue, 30 Sep 2008 00:17:00 +0000

Sounds like one of those horror stories you re-tell about your childhood...."Billy beat me up and stole my bike!" One of those traumatic stories that causes you to break out in a cold sweat while everyone around you is laughing because you got your ass beat by the neighborhood bully.

I'm over the broken heart, but I am not over the fact that he stole my football card collection. I knew he was a putz when he broke off our engagement (although he did do me a HUGE favor by doing so...), but then he denied even knowing what I was talking about when I asked him where the box was.

Hmmm. Amnesia always seems to hit during the process of splitting up.

What box? In the bedroom closet? I never touched that! I have no idea what the hell you're talking about! What stash of cash in the sock drawer?

You know he's a lyin' sack of potatoes - but it's too late. You no longer live there and he's changed the locks. What was I gonna do - call the police and tell them my boyfriend stole my football card collection? That would have given them a good laugh.

Now, I'm not the kinda chick that insists on harboring ill feelings of old boyfriends, but it's been over 4 years now and I'm still ticked that my ex stole my football card collection. I had Joe Montana's rookie year card, all the Chargers from the 80's, and some of the great players from the 70's.

I started collecting those cards when I was 11 and spent over 10 years collecting them. They had sentimental value and my putz of a boyfriend (fiance, if you want to get technical...) stole them.

I admit, a football card collection for a gal may seem a little odd, but I grew up on football - it was always the center of family functions and holidays. So my cards meant something to me and I didn't collect them just for the money - although they were worth a nice chunk of change.

Of course, I can only guess that my card collection ended up in the same place where my engagement ring did - the pawn shop.

After he broke off the engagement, he asked for the ring back. I gave to him, knowing that it had his grandmother's diamond in it. In the back of my mind, I was worried the ring might never make it back to his parents and I thought about hanging on to it and returning it to his mom. I don't know what I thought he would do with it, but I never thought he would pawn his grandmother's diamond.

When I spoke to his mother last year (we talk about once a year to say hi (she is much cooler than her butthead son), she said he never returned the ring. She's convinced he pawned it.

Now I know he's a real putz.

I'm not the only one who now knows my ex is a putz - his family thinks so too. When he broke off our engagement, his mother told him he was a fool and said she wanted nothing to do with him. They had a brief reconciliation - but it didn't last - they don't talk or see each other anymore.

I never talked smack about my ex, but got a lot of it from him. I got some nasty emails from him after the breakup - scathing is more like it. I could have played the victim, after all he was the butthead in all this, but I never talked about his questionable tact. In fact, this is the first time I am even discussing this. I'm hoping now that I'm doing some ranting, I can finally let it go.

Besides, I knew my ex had issues that had nothing to do with me, so I tried to remember that underneath it all - he was just trying to figure it out. Beyond the name calling, the insults and accusations, he was just trying to avoid pointing the finger at himself.

Maybe that makes me a good person....Maybe not if I'm still pissed that bastard stole my football card collection!

Things I'd Rather Be Doing...

noreply@blogger.com (Casey Emerson) — Wed, 10 Sep 2008 21:55:00 +0000

I've been in quite the kooky mood lately - not so much in the mood to do what I should be doing; like working. So, better than ruin the mood, I think I'll just stay on this not-so-productive bandwagon!

I was trying to think of a super-snappy, clever blog post when all I could think about was what I'd rather be doing; like taking a nap. Then I started thinking about the dishes that are sitting in my sink....ugh, I would so rather do something else; like give the dog a bath. Then I started thinking about all the chores I did as a kid and how I hated every minute of them.

You remember...give the dog a bath, pick up dog poop, do the dishes, vacuum, pull weeds. Oh, and the garage needs cleaning out....How I hated being a slave to my parents.

Of course, I still have to do things I don't like to do and there will always be things I'd rather be doing.

- I'd rather pick up dog poop than give the dog a bath. There's something about that wet dog smell that lingers for days.

- I'd rather vacuum than dust. This is why I'm a fanatic about not too much stuff on tables and desks. Knick-knacks, dishes, figurines - in a box or in the trash - not on my tables. Candles and coasters - those are my limits. Ugh, I hate dusting...

- I'd rather be unemployed than employed. I thought unemployment was the coolest - I didn't have to work and I still made money! Beat the heck out of having to deal with my pain in the ass boss for a measly paycheck. Of course, now I'm self-employed and bosses are long gone!

- I'd rather mow the lawn than shovel snow. Mowing the lawn doesn't make me feel like I just ran 5 miles...

- I'd rather live in California than Minnesota. How do people live in 20 feet of snow when it's 20 below anyway?

- I'd rather be single than be in a crappy relationship. Been there done that.

- I'd rather be a non-virgin than a virgin. Being a non-virgin is so much more fun ; )

- I'd rather fly than drive. Although that will probably change in the near future if airlines keep reducing their services and increasing their fares. $5 for stale bread and a slice of meat? Bite me.

- I'd rather be a guest on the Ellen show than Tyra Banks. Do you know Tyra actually won an Emmy for her crappy show?

- I'd rather have sex with Bill Clinton than Al Gore. What? I have no idea where that one came from...

- I'd rather be a Catholic than a Mormon. At least I could drink. That's better than being sober AND a virgin. *Please no hate-mail, this is all in good fun ; )

OK, I can see where this is heading and I better stop while I'm ahead....

Quote of the Day...
Well-behaved women rarely make history ; )
Laurel Thatcher Ulrich

I Hate Election Year...

noreply@blogger.com (Casey Emerson) — Mon, 08 Sep 2008 21:19:00 +0000

And if it weren't for the fact that G.W. is finally being thrown out of the White House, I wouldn't even be taking the time to write a blog post about the election year that I hate.

Well, that's not entirely true.

I try to avoid discussions about politics like the plague, but I've found myself in several lately. They all end up with one of us agreeing to disagree because we can all see there is no winning the debate.

And that's what I hate most about election year. There are very few people that can actually understand and listen to both sides of the story - let alone agree with opposing facts, at least to some degree.

My heart dropped out of the election when Hillary was forced to concede. Of course, announcing that I am a Hillary Clinton supporter is bound to get me some pretty nasty emails. In fact, I will very well lose business over it.

OK, that's exaggerating a bit. But for as many supporters as Hillary supposedly has (18 million or so at last count) she has an equal number of people who outright hate her.

Take my grandmother for instance. Here is a sweet old-fashioned lady, but turn the discussion to the Clintons and she turns into a trash-talking, mildly cussing, pissed-off old lady. Look out, don't let her grab the wooden spoon!

She wouldn't vote for Hillary if her life depended on it and she has some not-so-nice things to say about Bill. Of course, about the dirtiest thing she can say about Bill is that 'he needs to keep his pants zipped.'

Personally, if the worst I have to worry about my president is that he's getting blow jobs in the oval office by an intern - okay, I can deal with that. It's not like he's sending us to fight a war that will kill thousands of innocent people, American soldiers, foreign soldiers and make his family and friends billions of dollars. Oh yeah, and while he's NOT sending us to war, he's creating tons of jobs, our economy is thriving and everyone can pay their electric bills and put gas in their cars....

Sorry, when I look at the big picture my concern is the ability of our nation to thrive. If Bill wants to get a blow job for a hard day's work - I got no problems with that. Besides, his personal sexual behavior is none of my business - and neither is it the business of the press or public.

And the reason my grandmother doesn't like Hillary? Well my grandmother says 'she shoulda left him the minute she found out he cheated on her.' Trust me, my grandmother is the last person who should be throwing judgments around about cheating husbands. Of course, I diplomatically leave that very valid point out of the discussion, but I do say, 'Are you kidding?'.

The Kennedys were one of my grandmother's favorite presidential families....so I ask her if she ever thought that about Jackie every time news of JFK's wandering zipper became the day's news. He was openly tramping around and the press and public just took it all in stride - and so did my grandmother.

Doesn't matter. Bill is still a pig and Hillary is still an idiot.

That makes no sense to me.

And how could Clinton almost get impeached over a blow job, while G.W. is still happily making millions of dollars for his oil buddies while the country is going bankrupt and out of work. Of course, as one of my exes pointed out - Clinton should have been impeached for lying on the stand.

First of all, Clinton is the first president in history to be put under court and public scrutiny for his private sexual affairs (thank you Republicans...). As I explained to my ex, Clinton's private sexual affairs were nobody's business and he was trying to save his wife, daughter and himself from public embarrassment. He was doing a fine job running our country and I had no problem with a blow job - it was a lot less tramping around than JFK and everyone still loved him.

I love the Clintons because they did so much for the well-being of the country. Instead of leading us into war, they led us into a thriving economy. And people mocked Hillary for her health care plan because people couldn't imagine spending so much money on the well being of people - they'd rather spend trillions on war. The ones that can do so much good always meet so much resistance....

So, when Hillary left the race, so did my enthusiasm for change.

That is certainly not to discount the potential for change that will occur with Obama - and I'm sure there will be plenty of change. However, I wanted someone who would go into the White House to bust some serious balls - and Hillary was the only one with the guts enough to do it.

I support Obama because he is the best candidate of the two left and it makes me sick to think that McCain could end up running this country. Another member of the 'good ol' boys club.' Yuck. I believe Obama has a good heart, but he's gotta prove he's got the guts too.

But practicing what I preach - I have to focus on what I want, not what I don't want. I didn't vote for G.W. and I was disgusted when he weasled his way into the White House. (That's what a family name like Bush will get you - a presidency that was bought.) I knew he would be a horrible president, but I could not have conceived it would end up this bad.

That being said, now I can focus on what I would like to see happen regardless of who ends up in the White House.

- A president that acts from integrity not from his wallet
- A president that has genuine concern for the American people and does what it takes to support opportunity and success
- A president who listens to his heart more than special interests
- A president who builds well-being programs instead of tearing them down for more military funds
- A president who realizes the importance of education and puts children first
- A president who means what he says and says what he does
- A president who is honest, trustworthy and genuine
- A president who creates an affordable nationwide health care system for citizens
- A president who remembers he is a leader and therefore leads by example
- A president who is elected into the White House by a truthful and accurate election
- A president who has vision for the greatness of his country and its people
- A president who works to heal resentful international affairs and build win-win relationships
- A president who closes the gap between rich and poor or at least builds a bridge so the poor have a chance
- A president who creates effective incentives for companies to stay in the U.S. and hire American workers
- A president who remembers above all and in everything he does, the higher good of all involved.

The opportunity to succeed, be healthy and thrive - for all Americans.

This is what I would like to see...

Inside the Actor's Studio Meme

noreply@blogger.com (Casey Emerson) — Sun, 31 Aug 2008 14:12:00 +0000

I'm normally a dud when it comes to memes, but had to jump on the bandwagon here. I love Inside the Actor's Studio and am always scouting for a new episode.

I probably would have become an actress myself, if I would have addressed my stage fright more confidently. Yeah, I was the kid in drama class that puked every time they got on stage. I took it to be a sign that I wasn't cut out for acting, but realize now it was just a lack of self-confidence.

So, for a fleeting moment I'll pretend that I'm the one sitting in the chair next to James Lipton, giggling about how I almost gave up acting because I couldn't get past the puking...

Thanks to BermudaOnion.wordpress.com and LibraryQueue.blogspot.com for jumping on the Inside the Actor's Studio meme bandwagon too.

Here it goes...

What turns you off (creatively, spiritually or emotionally)?
Ignorance and intolerance. Most people have a tendency to forget that we all come from the same stock. We are neither better nor less significant than anyone else. Oh, and I really hate being told what to do - that really turns me off.

James Lipton: You hate being told what to do?
Me: Can't stand it.
JL: Doesn't being told what to do come along with being an actor? How do you deal with being directed?
Me: Bite my tongue.
JL: Chuckle. You must have a pretty tough tongue after ten years and seven films.
Me: Yes I do.
JL: You never speak up?
Me. No, there are times when I do.
JL: And for the times when you don't?
Me: I go back to my trailer and gargle with salt water to heal the cuts in my tongue. Laugh.

What sound or noise do you love?
Babies and kids laughing. Gentle rain. Thunder in the distance. Birds chirping - not the annoying ones, the cute ones.

What sound or noise do you hate?
Incessantly barking dogs. Garbage trucks. Sledgehammers. Sirens.

What is your favorite curse word?
Oh, there are so many good ones. I used to out-curse any sailor, but have mellowed out over the years. I rarely use them now, but some of my favorites are f*&%head, dillweed and dumba$. 'Damn it' is about as dramatic as I get these days.

What profession other than your own would you like to attempt?
I would love to be a singer - someone with a voice that has soul, guts and power. Maybe a cross between Joss Stone and Celine Dion.

What profession would you not like to do?
Lawyer. Police Officer. Garbage Collector.

If Heaven exists, what would you like to hear God say when you arrive at the Pearly Gates?
Fab ride, wasn't it?

Quote for the Day...
I've always believed in magic. When I wasn't doing anything in this town, I'd go up every night, sit on Mulholland Drive, look out at the city, stretch out my arms and say, "Everybody wants to work with me. I'm a really good actor. I have all kinds of movie offers." I'd just repeat these things over and over, literally convincing myself that I had a couple of movies lined up.
Jim Carrey

Will My Real Life Please Step Forward

noreply@blogger.com (Casey Emerson) — Mon, 25 Aug 2008 19:18:00 +0000

I remember very few times in my past when I was actually happy - most of the time I was miffed why I was being forced to live a life I didn't even want. Struggling for money, stuck at low-paying jobs I hated, and finding myself in relationships that failed emotionally and/or physically to fulfill whatever it was that I was looking for.

Five days a week I would wake up to the sound of my alarm clock and I hated that damn thing as much as I hated my life. Why did some people seem to have it all? Money, freedom, success, love...while I felt life was short-changing me. They were off renting private islands and flying by private jet while I was borrowing money from my parents to pay my rent.

Whose life was this? It certainly wasn't mine!

I thought that with every new job or relationship would finally be IT. You know, the IT that completely turns your life around, changes everything, and makes you forget about all the days, months and years you were miserable before IT came along?

It would be years later that I would realize I was looking for the solutions in every place they weren't. The solutions were not in the next relationship and they certainly weren't in the next job. They weren't even in next month or next year. Next year it will be better, I said.....year and after year after year.

Right about this time - Reality TV hit the airwaves. I became a reality TV junkie - addicted to the drama, the adventure, and the triumphs. My mom said to me one day, "I can't believe you watch that crap." I giggled and told her that I liked the real life stories (although admitted that they were often skewed for the drama factor and ratings) and how you got to know people and experience an entirely different life without actually having to go through it yourself.

I loved shows like American Idol, Temptation Island and Amazing Race because ordinary people were put in extraordinary circumstances - and their lives changed forever. They didn't know what they were made of before they started, but found out when it was all over. They were forever changed - they had found their IT moment.

That is what I wanted. I wanted my IT moment. I wanted an experience that seemed so hopeless, so challenging that I would cry defeat - only to come out at the end of it a champion. I wanted to feel what that moment felt like - the moment you know something big is being born and there is no way to go back - even if you want to.

It was in the moments of describing to my mom what I loved about Reality TV that I realized why I loved it so much. I got to see how people with so much talent finally get their big break. I got to see how couples were given an opportunity to see their relationships and themselves through another perspective, and ultimately decide if they were in the right relationship. I got to see how ordinary people can do the extraordinary. In those moments, great things were born and real lives were created. Their IT moment had changed everything.

It would be a few years later that my IT moment would show up.

I didn't realize it at the time, but there would be no turning back. I didn't really want to go back, but I had created enough fear to come up with a hundred excuses why I should stay exactly where I was. Being an employee wasn't what I was meant to do, but it was the best I was capable of at the time. I was beyond terrified of what I would have to go through to get where I really wanted to be.

Some how I fumbled my way through the fear, the tears and the frustration to come out the other side a champion.

Funny, I thought I knew who I was before I started this new journey. Turns out, my IT moment showed me who I really was.

That was when my real life stepped forward.

Quote of the Day...
Persistence and determination alone are omnipotent. The slogan "press on" has solved and always will solve the problems of the human race.
Calvin Coolidge

The Fearless Warrior

noreply@blogger.com (Casey Emerson) — Mon, 18 Aug 2008 18:12:00 +0000

This blog post is based on true events...

The other day I was mowing the lawn and had an encounter with one very brave soul...

I live on a good size lot, so I mow the lawn with a ride-on mower. So, here I am, mowing the lawn and doing my ritual of dodging grasshoppers and driving in a perfect spiral pattern. The grasshoppers want nothing to do with the gigantic mower and are quick to get as far away as possible when I come along. However, sometimes they get a little confused by my circling patterns.

I admit, I'm a bit OC on the mowing pattern on the grass, and I mow the grass is a circular motion that creates a nice spiral pattern. By the time I get to the center, the circles get smaller and that confuses the heck out of the grasshoppers trying to dodge the mower.

Let me explain....I'll pass a grasshopper on the left, so it will jump right. But when I make my pass on the other side, it has to jump in the direction from which it just came and it lands it right in the line of fire. It usually takes them a few times to figure out jumping back to the spot where they just came from isn't helping them get away from this massive machine....

I feel bad for the little guys, but I just can't run 'em over. If there is such a thing as a Buddhist gardener, I'm it. Spiders, beetles, worms...you name it, I save 'em. (Although I sadly admit that wasps and bees are not protected by my Buddhist gardening practices....)

Anyway, eventually they figure it out and fly somewhere out of the line of fire and where the vibration from the mower doesn't vibrate their tentacles off.

So, the other day was just like any day other day mowing. I'm being OC about the mowing pattern and driving slow enough for the grasshoppers to get out of the way. But today, I notice a new bug. It's a stick figure and it moves a couple of times as I pass nearby, but by about the third pass, it quits retreating and stands its ground. As I get closer, I realize its a praying mantis.

I kid you not, it is standing on its hind legs, with its forelegs moving in a sparring motion. It was actually going head to head with the ride-on mower!

Being the Buddhist gardener that I am, I shut off the engine and got down off the mower. I crouched near it and watched it stand there with its forelegs up, ready to take me on too. I don't think I've ever seen a bug that small try to take on something that is about a bazillion times bigger that its body.

I just watched it for a few minutes, amazed that something so small had so much courage. By this time, it realized I wasn't as threatening as the big, bad mower and had quit sparring its forelegs at me.

Fearless warrior, I decided.

I moved a little and it shifted its head to follow me - body totally still. That was a little freaky, I didn't know the head could do almost a 360. It's keen sense of my position was a little creepy.

Taking note of the sharp hooks on the forelegs, I decided it best to nudge it from behind. I had visions of it attacking my shoe, but after a few nudges it finally ended up out of the way.

I got back to my mowin' and kept thinking about the fearless warrior. Was that fearlessness a good quality or just plain stupidity? True - the mantis was bound to lose the battle against the mower, but generally speaking, fearlessness is a good quality.

So I got to thinking, what changes would I have to make to gain enough courage to face something that is a bazillion times bigger than me.

Let's face it, when you're fearless about achieving your goals - there's no stopping you. There are no obstacles, there are no boundaries - there is just sheer fearlessness and determination. And it's fearlessness that allows us to achieve what we never thought possible; that's how you do the impossible.

Funny how a praying mantis taught me so much....

Side Note: I was curious to know more about the praying mantis, so I got online. Did you know there are larger breeds of praying mantis's and they have been known to kill lizards, snakes and rodents? A praying mantis, killing a snake - that's crazy!

Quote of the Day...
You will give birth to more in the future than you've lost in the past....But you must step out of doubt and step into faith.
Joel Osteen

Thanks to spluch.blogspot.com for the photo - it was perfect!

Writers Who Inspire Me...

noreply@blogger.com (Casey Emerson) — Sun, 17 Aug 2008 02:55:00 +0000

One of the greatest things about being a writer is the feedback I get from blog fans and visitors. I have to say, the compliments I receive warm my heart and put a huge smile on my face. It feels good to be told that my writing is inspirational and filled with wisdom. And most of the time I feel that way too.

When I come across great writers, I find myself wondering if I inspire readers as much as they inspire me and if I'm only half as good as I think I am. You know, like the delusional contestants who try out for American Idol... They swear they are the biggest talent out there and when the judges tell them they suck, they don't believe it.

Of course, I don't have anyone telling me my writing sucks, and thankfully I'm not that delusional ; )

When I come across a writer whose words are eloquent and wise, I want to become a better writer. I want to affect readers like their writing affects me - and here's one of those writers...

I "met" Robin Easton through BlogCatalog.com and couldn't have been more blessed. The first time I visited her blog I was amazed that someone could appear that vibrant on my computer screen. Her soul literally pops off the screen and sits next to you like a really good friend.

I explored her blog a little and then went to her About: Robin Easton page to read more. It doesn't take long to figure out that Robin is an all-out adventurer, having explored places that are as far from civilization as possible. I still haven't figured out how a girl from Maine made it to Tasmania ; ) I love Robin's writing because she is deeply connected to nature. She thrives on its energy and needs it daily. It's like oxygen to her; without it, survival is just not possible.

Robin's blog is full of beautiful, heartfelt words that remind us all that life is waiting for us just outside our front door. You can't find true peace within the walls of your house and your TV will not lead you to the discovery of the meaning of life.

One of the first posts I read was FEAR: doorway to freedom. From exploring her site and blog, it was apparent that Robin has spent more time in nature than most people do over their entire lifetime. But throw any civilized human in the wilderness and the survival gene is bound to kick in.

Robin moved to the Australian rainforest, to live...and the the post is about overcoming her fears that come along with living in the wild. She could have let the fear control her and take away the beauty of the experience, but she didn't. (Personally, I'm pretty sure I wouldn't have the guts to live among the biting bugs, venomous snakes and whatever else decided to make a home in my shoes and bed...)

I suppose she got to a place where she remembered she is more earth and soul than human. With that, she was able to let go of her fears and embrace the wilderness around her.

Naked in Eden is filled with wisdom, reflections, and reminders of how much life we can get from feeling the dirt beneath our feet and the sun on our face. Robin is soulful nature at its best. Check out her blog or find her on BlogCatalog, just search for Robin Easton.

Thanks Robin, for reminding me about the magic of nature. And that courage is just about remembering who we really are...earth and soul.

Quote for the Day...
If I am afraid to take a chance, I'll take one anyway.
If I have done things that didn't work out well or didn't make me feel good, I will do something else.
If I want something different, I must do something different.
From the book, Don't Give it Away by Iyanla Vanzant

101 Fun Facts about Me

noreply@blogger.com (Casey Emerson) — Wed, 13 Aug 2008 16:50:00 +0000

As if I don't talk about ME often enough.....here's some fun facts about me that most people don't know. Really, not even my family or exes knew this stuff! But I was inspired by Tracey's 101. Funny stuff!

1. I believe in the magic of life
2. I believe in a higher power whether you call it God, Universal Power, Source, etc. It exists.
3. I am a Gemini and definitely have two sides to me. One is very sweet and childlike while the other is a bit sassy and sarcastic
4. I am an only child
5. I'm working on the "it's all about me" thing
6. Maybe that explains why I've never been married....
7. Although I would like to be
8. I believe in love at first sight
9. I believe there may be more than one soulmate for each person
10. But believe when you find the right person at the right time, it can feel like there couldn't possibly be anyone better suited for you
11. I thought I would be married and have kids by age 28. Uh, that definitely didn't happen!
12. I am a sucker for romantic comedies
13. Serendipity has to be my favorite. I love that whole love-sick, 'I can't live without you,' soulmate thing
14. Some bald guys are hot
15. While others are not...
16. Overall, I prefer hair unless we're talking really hot!
17. I don't do drugs and only drink occasionally
18. I don't date guys who do drugs, drink excessively and can't hold a job....
19. I have a list of qualities for my ideal guy
20. It's a very looooong list
21. But that's OK because the Universe brings you what you expect. And I expect the best.
22. Some exes may say I was a sweet girl
23. Other exes may say I was a pain in the ass
24. While still others say I was a bitch
25. I'm OK with all of those because I probably was...
26. I need a lot of time alone
27. Seriously, a lot of time alone. It's how I process my personal growth.
28. Some people talk ALL the time....that's not me
29. Sometimes I need quiet companionship
30. While other times I need a good, challenging debate
31. I am a sucker for some hot guys (Michael Weatherly, The Rock, Steve Santagati, Tyler Florence and even George Clooney).
32. Put them all together and they make the perfect man! Michael's face, The Rock's body, Steve's personality, Tyler's cooking abilities and George's Italian Villa and Hollywood parties. YUM!
33. I am a pro football freak. I've been known to call plays and when they run 'em - all the guys are shocked. Maybe it's some intuitive thing...
34. I believe in listening to my gut. It lets me know what's going on.
35. I believe the secret to life is connecting with your source and allowing the power, knowledge and energy to come to the surface. When you can use the mind and soul together - you create an amazing life.
36. I read the book, The God Deception. It was a highly controversial book and written by an agnostic. I was curious what beliefs caused someone to believe there is no soul, no God, no universal power. It was interesting.
37. I was told by my high school counselor that I would make a great lawyer or police officer. I couldn't imagine my life pursuing either profession.
38. I wanted to be a psychologist, but didn't get my psychology degree because I was afraid I would become depressed dealing with other people's problems day in and day out.
39. I grew up in San Diego
40. In middle and high school I partied more than I studied
41. I saw a lot of kids go to rehab before they were 16
42. When I was 14, I saw two guys shoot up heroin in front of me. Then they offered it to me...
43. One of the most defining moments of my life....I said no.
44. I quit hanging out with drug addicts in 11th grade because I didn't want to go where they went
45. I watch the Matrix once every few months to remind me "there is no spoon"
46. I love The Parent Trap (original) and Mary Poppins
47. Mrs. Beasley was my favorite doll when I was a kid
48. I had to take my pillow with me everywhere I slept when I was a kid. I cried for days when my mom threw it away when I was nine. I still remember that...
49. Now I buy a new pillow about every 4-5 months
50. I have to have 3-4 pillows on my bed
51. If I have to take pillows off my bed to accommodate a guy....the guy has to go home
52. I take up a queen-size bed all by myself
53. That's why I LOVE king-size beds ; )
54. A Sleep-Number bed is my next bed!
55. I have coffee every morning
56. Starbucks is good, but when I realized I was spending $100 a month on coffee - I had to admit I had a problem
57. Breakfast is my favorite meal
58. Breakfast for dinner is even better
59. Pancakes and French Toast rule!
60. Chocolate gives me headaches, so I treat myself about once every six months
61. Same with dairy
62. Which means I order pizza without cheese ; (
63. I could live on Mexican food. Give me tortillas, beans and carne asada!
64. Ooh, Chevy's corn cake rocks!
65. Of course, Chinese and Thai run a close second
66. Tequila and I do NOT get along
67. I'm half Irish, but I cannot drink whiskey. Yuck!
68. I went to Ireland and felt like I was coming home
69. Hawaii is one of my favorite tropical vacation spots
70. I love traveling and am working that into my profession
71. I think Airlines suck. The food sucks, the seats suck and the service sucks. Whatever happened to customer service and comfort? I could go on and on...
72. However, first-class is better
73. I want to travel by private charter
74. Peanut butter and pickle sandwiches are good, but gotta be in the mood for 'em.
75. I talk to myself...been doin' it since I was a kid.
76. My mom and my grandma talk to themselves too
77. If I go to the grocery store without a list I always forget one or two things
78. Never been a follower
79. I do better if I make my own rules
80. My favorite kind of pen is the Pilot Easy Touch and hate using any other brand
81. I hate black pens. I do blue, purple or pink. Only.
82. My first car was a Ford Maverick. My dad put mag wheels on it and I used to peel out at stop lights ; )
83. My dad used to race his 71 Stingray at the Carlsbad raceway. With me in the car.....
84. I watched Heart Like a Wheel when I was a kid and swore I was going to be the next Shirley Muldowney
85. I don't date guys that don't know how to use chopsticks. It's not that hard people...
86. I have an internal GPS system. I can find direction with nothing more than using my inner compass. Kinda freaky.
87. I can wake myself up from a nap.
88. I usually wake up 1-2 minutes before my alarm clock. Weird.
89. I can't sleep with my closet open, the boogey-man may get me...
90. I am a spa snob
91. The princess hates cleaning house
92. If I have the money for a housekeeper, I hire one.
93. I cook, but I prefer gourmet food delivery or take out
94. I killed my hamster when I was a kid. He was trying to get away and I squeezed him too hard....
95. Don't really like cats. I'm allergic and I don't like their whole, "This is my world honey, I'm just letting you live here..." attitude.
96. I love dogs because they always miss you and are always happy to see you. Plus, they understand I am the master.
97. I have been a writer my whole life
98. I'm writing a book about my life and can see the movie in my head....
99. I want to come back in another life as a singer
100. I believe there are no pre-determined paths in life. Our direction is determined by our choices.
101. I've been to the other side...It's amazing

The Rise of Princess Warrior Casey

noreply@blogger.com (Casey Emerson) — Sat, 09 Aug 2008 14:25:00 +0000

OK, so most of my posts are very happy-go-lucky, positive, life-is-so-great kind of talk - but today, I'm just not in the mood to be nice. Lucky for you, rants are much more entertaining.

So, I finally wrapped up all the ado with the million-dollar client this week....geesh, what a hassle.

I do have to say I am very blessed that it ended quietly and keeping my cool during the whole thing helped for sure.

What I'm pissed about is my ability, actually non-ability, to put my foot down and quit being so friggin' nice to clients. Let's face it - being "nice" doesn't pay my bills.

Does that mean I have to be a bitch? Probably not. But why I don't tell people NO! more often is beyond me. We write a contract, the client adds a little here, a little there - and all the while I'm saying "sure!"

What am I doing? I'm not getting paid to do that - the contract says this and this is what I will do. If you want that, you're going to have to pay me more money to do that.

From the very beginning, the contract stated very clearly what the project outlined and from the very beginning the client was asking for more. "Sure" I said. What?

Well, I think I've had just about my share fair of clients taking advantage of my generosity, this being about the Nth time I've done it. You give them an inch and they will ask for another. You give in - they take another one. Before you know it - you've gone about a foot and you're losing money on the deal. You'd think I would have learned my lesson the first time I gave more than I got paid for.

In the middle of closing the deal with the million-dollar client, I was editing a manuscript for an author. It was a dark fantasy about a girl who gets raped and has to make it through the dark emotions of the aftermath. She goes from being a soft spoken, somewhat shy teenager to an all out warrior. Honestly, the manuscript couldn't have come at a better time to me. Although it was never something I would have read off the shelf (I like books that don't give me nightmares. And I'm certainly not comparing my client pains to pains of being raped - the two don't compare), but the theme was about a powerless girl becoming empowered - that I can relate to.

So after all the back and forth with the million-dollar client, I finally sent off the addendum to be signed for final contract release. Needless to say, the client attempted to put the responsibility back on me - and I had had it. I laid down the law (actually, the law had already been laid in my very detailed addendum) and when I did - it came as a big shock to the client. No favors, no pardons - not one more flippin' inch.

It's actually not the client's fault - for the first time during this project I had laid down the law. If I wouldn't have been so eager to avoid enforcing it from the beginning - he wouldn't have been confused. It's like training a dog...give the dog mixed signals and it won't know how to react. That was my responsibility - and my mistake.

I think most people are good-hearted. But I also believe that most people act from ego during business dealings and they take whatever they can get. There's no spirit, no soul - just what's in it for me? If they have to go for the jugular, they just might. And this client isn't the only one I've had that was more than willing to ask for everything they wanted and expected (even though it wasn't in the contract) and oh, they weren't going to pay a single penny more.

I'm not totally jaded to the point where I think all clients are jerks, but I have come to realize that if I don't set boundaries and defend them - I will be the one who pays. Well, George Banks is saying no! (Sorry, you would have had to see Father of the Bride with Steve Martin and Diane Keaton to get that joke.....Remember the hot dog bun scene in the store?)

So what's the lesson in all this? Actually, there's four...

1. Trust your gut from the very beginning (see my The Million-Dollar Client post), 2. Write a very detailed contract that covers every possible scenario, 3. Defend those terms from the beginning and don't back down, and 4. Quit doing work you don't get paid for....

Rise Warrior Princess Casey!

Quote for the day...
It's time to stop denying the the inner bitch in ourselves. Stop apologizing for her. Set her free.
Elizabeth Hilts