There are VERY few things that make my skin crawl...

I am an ex-carnie. It is something I am fiercely proud of, and also something that has given me a lot of in site into people. It also fueled my love learning about of abnormal psychology. It has also made me HUGELY suspicious of peoples motives, which I guess is a good thing:

From: m******y (View Profile)
Subject: Hi Sent Date: 10/20/2010 2:09:18 PM

You are truly a beautiful woman. Without being too forward, I was hoping that I might ask for your cell number so we could get to know one another. I am not your typical jerk that is looking for one thing on this site. I want to get to know you, not just your beauty. Thanks. Brian

From: m******y (View Profile)
Subject: Hi Sent Date: 10/20/2010 3:13:19 PM

Hey beautiful. If you are interested in getting a couple hundred tonight legally and non sexually for 3 hours of your time, please reply asap. Its a simple and easy dare. Just would need 4 things. Know how to flirt, have a car or can get one, own ankle or knee high boots, and dont mind having a few drinks. Let me know soon please.


From: Hooli-Gin (View Profile)
Subject: RE:Hi Sent Date: 10/20/2010 3:17:04 PM

Should I even ask what you are proposing?


From: m******y (View Profile)
Subject: RE:RE:Hi Sent Date: 10/20/2010 3:19:14 PM

Just hanging out, having drink around a firepit, acting flirtatious, and dressing however you want and in boots. Thats it.


From: Hooli-Gin (View Profile)
Subject: RE:RE:RE:Hi Sent Date: 10/20/2010 3:23:17 PM

The carnie in me sees a catch somewhere in this dare.


From: m******y (View Profile)
Subject: RE:RE:RE:RE:Hi Sent Date: 10/20/2010 3:23:49 PM

no catch


From: Hooli-Gin (View Profile)
Subject: RE:RE:RE:RE:RE:Hi Sent Date: 10/20/2010 3:24:48 PM

There is always a catch. Especially when it is termed as a dare.


From: m******y (View Profile)
Subject: RE:RE:RE:RE:RE:RE:Hi Sent Date: 10/20/2010 3:25:51 PM

jsut act like you are totally into him, simple


From: Hooli-Gin (View Profile)
Subject: RE:Hi Sent Date: 10/20/2010 3:27:26 PM

lol. Now you really have to explain this one further.


From: m******y (View Profile)
Subject: RE:RE:Hi Sent Date: 10/20/2010 3:28:01 PM

?


From: Hooli-Gin (View Profile)
Subject: RE:RE:RE:Hi Sent Date: 10/20/2010 3:30:42 PM

"jsut act like you are totally into him, simple"

Who are you setting up? Why are you setting them up? Why is this worth paying a stranger a couple hundred (as you said) to do?

I have not received a reply as of yet, in fact, the gentleman in question read & deleted the message. And yeah... I may have watched far too many true crime shows but my father always told me "If an offer seems too good to be true, It probably is". I think I just had a very odd near miss.

Yoohoo. I'll make you famous!...

(Sorry... I had to use the Young Guns II reference)

Dear Santa,

I know its been years since I've written you, probably almost 25 years actually, BUT PLEASE don't let a quarter of a century of no communication (and the fact that you were actually my mother) stand in the way of helping me with what I so very badly need! You see... I don't have the money for plastic surgery to make myself more attractive. Please don't write me back with a bunch of Glamor Magazine platitudes about how its whats on the INSIDE that counts and that I will find someone who loves me for who I am not what I look like!

I am ugly. Hideous actually! I desperately need liposuction on my entire body to get rid of all the saddle bags and spare tires and rolls and folds I have from not being able to work out because of my heart problems. Even though I am a 36DD, I need a boob job because they HAVE to be BIGGER AND BETTER AND STRONGER AND FASTER (If you can throw in some tailored shirts for me to cram those bad girls into, and some tee-shirts too that won't get all weird looking that would be fucking AWESOME cause I have enough trouble finding shirts as a 36DD!)!!!!!!! I should be a blond too. With long Pam Anderson type hair, that I can throw over my shoulder as I giggle and simper. Oh! I need a new face too... Maybe like Sophia Loren? No, wait, she's striking, not classically beautiful. Princess Diana? Nope. She wasn't classically beautiful either. Perhaps like Gene Tierney. She is the most classically beautiful woman I can think of, at least right off hand. And make me dumber and needier. Guys don't like girls that are smart and independent, as much as they may complain otherwise.

Believe me, I know I will no longer be me, with the totally crooked nose from when I got jumped in Trenton 10 years ago by nine guys because I refused to back the fuck down when I knew I was in the rights. The crazy hair that seems to defy EVERY stylists attempts to tame it (but that I've learned to love because it takes a LOT of abuse). The body that went through 7+ years of abuse in wrestling & MMA and is still trying to defy a heart that is slowly failing me. And I don't need to be intelligent and self-sufficient, even though both are traits I value and have helped me get through all lot of shit in my life. I don't need to have more balls than brains, because everything will be done FOR me.

You see... I'd rather be the PERFECT, MOST BEAUTIFUL TROPHY than be a strong, independent, striking (I know I will never be classically beautiful which automatically makes me a failure at life) woman. It is too difficult for me to continue inflicting my unattractiveness on people. I am at my wits end.

Please Santa, you are my ONLY HOPE (if you can get rid of the geeky Star Wars references I always make too, that would be bangin'. Seriously, no one likes a geek)!

With Warmest Wishes and Deepest Sarcasm,
Melissa

irony (usually uncountable; plural ironies)

1. A statement that, when taken in context, may actually mean something different from, or the opposite of what is written literally; the use of words expressing something other than their literal intention, notably as a form of humor.
2. (colloquial) The quality or state of an event being both coincidental and contradictory in a humorous or poignant and extremely improbable way.
3. Dramatic irony: a theatrical effect in which the meaning of a situation, or some incongruity in the plot, is understood by the audience, but not by the characters in the play.
4. Ignorance feigned for the purpose of confounding or provoking an antagonist; Socratic irony.

As I was wandering around Plenty of Fish (I'd LOVE to hack that site and change the name to Plenty of Scumbags however, be that as it may...) I stumbled across this profile Tattooedschmuck. Considering how tired I am of interacting with a bunch of guidos who think they are gods gift, I was pretty thrilled about seeing the following:
About Me
Does anyone really read this? Probably not. This sight is based on visual assumptions. If you look at me, and think i look good, ill get a response. If i dont meet your high standards of visual perfection, i get ignored. its pretty cut and dry. So, if you wanna know about me, and get to know me as a person, YOU write me.

That hits on one of my BIGGEST pet-peeves of PoF. I actually READ peoples profiles, because I prefer to KNOW something about people before I both messaging them. And judging from a LOT of people I have dated, I am not particularly worried so much about how "hot" the person is as whether they are a good person. I've met enough "hotties" both male and female in the wrestling business who are complete and total asshats, that I am not particularly interested in with that bullshit. I live a drama free life because I would rather not land my ass in the hospital. Since this guy did mention something that bothers me about PoF, I thought I'd send him a message even though I usually don't message people. I tend to be far too shy to say anything, and the douche bag quotient on that site is AMAZING. There is also that small fact that I am TOTALLY not interested in DATING this guy (I do have someone special in my life, thank you very much) but I thought he would be cool to bullshit with, as he seems to have a fairly cutting sense of humor like the majority of my friends do.

The gist of my message was that not everyone on the site goes strictly by pictures and I just felt the need to defend those that don't fall under his sweeping generalization. Unfortunately, I sent the message from my phone and it doesn't save it to my outbox, which would have been nice. Especially when I received this reply this morning:
thats touching, really. youre also not the slightest bit attractive. thanks for wasting my time.

The reply I am probably never going to send because it is JUST not worth it to me, but was still EXTREMELY fucking fun to write anyway.
So, let me get this shit straight...

1. You are a fucking HYPOCRITE, in so much as you invite people to message you "if you wanna know about me, and get to know me as a person" if they think you look good (btw, clearer pictures may help a girl make that decision, but it didn't really matter to me since I am not out trolling for a fuck), but then turn around and insult them. You are no better than those you revile. In fact... you are probably WORSE than they are since they don't turn around and attack people needlessly.
2. You insulted me while slaughtering most rules on proper grammar (which I find FAR more offensive than the fact you find me "not the slightest bit attractive", cause honestly according to most of your pictures you have no desire to let people see you up close which means the same thing to me).
3. You thank me for wasting your time when *GASP* PoF has this delightful feature where you can delete messages without reading them. I know. It's fucking novel. Additionally, at no point did you actually NEED to reply to me. You CHOSE to waste not only YOUR time but my time as well by sending that completely uncalled for reply to something that was meant to be light-hearted.
4. Thank you for living down to your name... you truly are a schmuck in the BASEST sense of the word.

Enjoy your continued search on Plenty of Fish, I truly hope you manage to find that perfect little trophy you are looking for. Unfortunately... those girls are few and far between on this or any other dating site as most of them have already attached themselves to people who are far wealthier than most of us "unattractive" losers will ever be. Namesta!

Btw... these are his pictures for reference:

I want my life back...

Over the past couple months I have found myself getting sicker and sicker again, and it is unbelievably frustrating. I didn't think I'd be back in this position, especially not so soon. Medicine isn't working very well, and every idea we have about what is wrong is scarier than the previous idea. And it sucks. I quit smoking. I've tried getting healthier and my heart proceeds to kick my legs out from under me. This blog is usually happy bright and cheery (ok... its sarcastic and bitchy but whatever! My blog. Fuck you!) but I feel the need to repost a blog I wrote about a year ago...

The person who changed my life...

In everyone’s life, there is always someone who completely changes your live. Sometimes it’s immediately upon meeting them, other times it takes a while before their impact is felt. In my case, this person changed my life not once, but twice. He not only changed how I worked in wrestling within hours of meeting him, he also changed how I thought about things years later.

I originally met Diamond Dallas Page four or five years ago, back when all I wanted in my life was to wrestle. Not only wrestle, but to make my trainers proud when they saw me in the ring. I was given the honor of picking Dallas up at a horror convention, not only because I tend to be exceedingly clueless about “names” in the wrestling business, but also because I could care less if someone is “famous”. Fame doesn’t mean anything; it’s the type of person you are that is important.

During the couple hours I spend with Dallas, driving to and from the horror con and at the ECW arena, I was fortunate enough to talk to him about a myriad of different topics. Not only did I get tips on wrestling from one of the best in the business, but Dallas and I also had an extended conversation about something else we had in common (that I never would have guessed)… Yoga. More specifically, we talked about YRG (Yoga for Regular Guys). At that point I was under the mistaken belief that yoga was yoga. Dallas was so insistent and passionate about his form of yoga that I found myself promising I’d try the dvd’s when they were released. I was also fascinated by Dallas’ idea of “Living Life at 90%”.

Months later, after much obsessive checking of his website, the dvd’s were released and I immediately ordered the 3-dvd set (I still have the envelope they came in). The day they arrived I popped in the 15-minute dvd, thinking it would be a good, quick, easy stretch before wrestling practice. God, was I wrong. That 15-minute dvd kicked my ass, and I’d been doing yoga for 5 or 6 years at that point. It became the work-out dvd I recommended to EVERYONE because I had muscles hurting I’d NEVER felt before.

Years passed, I left the wrestling business, started building a life build on a different set of hopes & dreams and occasionally received Dallas’ email blasts. I was fascinated watching someone I consider a true “Jersey Boy” & wrestler change people’s perceptions of yoga. I especially got a kick out of seeing Dallas with our troops. Occasionally, I got my memory jogged when he mentioned “Living Life at 90%” and thinking back to the opportunity I was given to learn from an amazing wrestler and incredible yogi.

And then my world as I knew it was shattered…

In the space of what felt like a matter of weeks, I went from being active and athletic, to being trapped in a body that was failing me with no explanation on why. As many times as I had joked that I have no heart, I found out I did have a heart when, at barely 29 years old, it started failing me. On a good day, I’d feel multiple little flutters that I could push through it. On a bad day, I could be sitting and would “grey out”. I would dread the flights of stairs getting to and from work, in my office building and especially at my house. I use to bound up stairs, but at my worst point I was practically crawling up the stairs.

As the weeks tuned into months, and a diagnosis seemed to get further away with every doctors appointment, I began to lose hope that I would ever get better. At my absolute lowest, I’d reached the point that I was praying one of the arrhythmias would kill me. I could not see why I should continue fighting and trying to go on, when I was constantly being told I was crazy and the heart problems were all in my head. I knew I wasn’t crazy, and I definitely could feel the stutters and racing of my heart (paying attention to my body was something I learned from yoga), but after about the third or fourth doctor telling me there was nothing wrong I started questioning my own sanity. Add to that a feeling that no one really got what I was going through (I’d had friends try to draw parallels to everything from heart burn to pulled muscles, which all go away not get progressively worse), and I was not a pleasant person to deal with.

I received one of Dallas’ emails and something caught my attention (and gave me a mental kick in the ass I needed). Dallas was talking about “Living Life at 90%” again, but the difference was, this time I went to his website and tried to find as much as possible about it. It had been years and my memory was a bit foggier than I care to admit due to what can only be classified as a deep depression. Unfortunately, everything he had was videos and I wasn’t able to watch them at work. The reasonable response to that is “Well, watch them at home”, but by that time I was sleeping like a cat because my energy was spent by the time I got back to my house. So I did the next best thing. I messaged Dallas on MySpace, explained how we met, gave him a brief rundown about what was happening and asked him if he could post some stuff about “Living Life at 90%” on MySpace. Honestly, I didn’t think Dallas was actually running the MySpace, and I highly doubted I’d get any sort of response. Boy was I wrong…

I got a reply less than 24 hours later and I still to this day have it saved in my inbox. Dallas very kindly sending me a copy of his “Own Your Life” cd (that apparently now is included in the YRG set) and while I was very doubtful anything would be able to help me, I figured I’d give it a listen. The day I got the cd, I was attempting to get enough energy to start repainting my bathroom, so I put it in my cd player and hoped I’d manage to at least start cutting in the edges. By the time the cd was over I’d not only finished the cutting in, I’d painted most of the bathroom. I was starting to believe “Own Your Life” could help me at least a little bit. I’d promised Dallas I’d keep him posted on how everything was and if “Own Your Life” helped me.

For a month, that cd didn’t leave my car, and I’d also put it on my mp3 player for my trips to and from work on the train. In fact, the cd was in my car when I went to the appointment with the first cardiac specialist. After 2 appointments, I was completely distraught after being accused of being a drug addict and faker, then finally listened to when I almost passed out when driving. In less than a month, I went from “crazy” to needing immediate heart surgery that may or may not actually help me. I was not comfortable with the situation, and especially with the doctor, so I in a lot of ways subconsciously applied some of the things I’d learned from Dallas. I hadn’t trained myself yet to be able to control my reactions to situations and I barely started to change my outlook on my life. I spoke to people I trusted and made the decision to get a second opinion before I allowed a doctor I hated to shove a six foot long tube up my femoral artery.

It is now almost a year after I’d first emailed Dallas. I know what’s wrong with my heart, I know it can never be fixed, but it can to some extent be controlled by medication and life style changes. Every day is a struggle to adapt to a life that is completely different than anything I’d foreseen for myself. Some days are fine, some are a little bit harder when it comes to my heart. I still tire extremely easily, but now I don’t fight it. I know I’ll have bad days, but I try to concentrate on and look forward to the good days.

The one thing I have heard over and over since my life changed is “I can’t believe how positive of a attitude you have”, especially when people realize the battle I have been fought over the past year. There are things that happen which are completely out of my control and all I can do is control my reaction to them. I started controlling my reactions to things by trying to remember 2 things when everything seems to be going wrong (not quite DDP-isms but way easier for me to remember than “Control your breath” in a pinch): “Fuck It” and “Just let it ride”. I also stopped regretting when things don’t go the way I think they should.

On the long journey of life, that I restarted with a better attitude the day I receive “Own Your Life” from Dallas, I know there will be missteps, and there will be more adversity. But I look forward to facing those trials head on because I know in my heart, that even if I can’t control what happens to me, I can control how I react and how I breathe. I’ve realized so many important lessons in the process of growing from that one simple request for help. Every day I have tried to help others the way I was helped. My only “regret” with this life changing gift I was given was that it has taken a year to finally put to words what Dallas gave me by sending me that cd, but I hope that my hindsight on everything I gained makes up for my previous lack of words.

Hopefully, every step I take, slowly making my heart and mind stronger, is one step closer to being able to do YRG with Dallas next time he is in New Jersey, hopefully one step closer to going head to head with him on 10-second push-ups and one more day when I OWN MY LIFE…

There are 52 ways to murder anyone, one or two are the same...

I seriously just got this message 5 minutes ago. I sent it to Pookie on GChat, then realized there was a blog in the making as I ranted:

momie momie i beleive u would look great on my hayabusa its a motorcycle

1. I'm WELL fucking aware of what a Hayabusa is. I'm a girl. I'm not BRAIN DEAD!!!!!!! And your bike doesn't impress me. *shrugs* Sorry. I hate crotch rockets.
   
2. What the FUCK happened to the punctuation? Really... That is just one long run on thought. And perhaps it should have STAYED a thought!
3. When referring to someone as Momie... AT LEAST SPELL IT RIGHT! Its Mami! EVEN THE FUCKING GRINGA CAN SPELL IT CORRECTLY! (Ok... I can spell it right because one of my ex's called me Mami. lol. Be that as it may, its still not spelled correctly and it creeped me out the way it was spelled.)
4. Why are you hitting on me when you are from like MIDDLE OF NO WHERE CONNECTICUT?

*sigh* I give up...

This may be more of a headache than its worth...

I don't think that my cousin Les really realized some of the bullshit I deal with on the dating sites (most people don't until they read the blog). I actually got this message on my way to Florida (more on that in another blog) but didn't check it until I got to one of her friends houses.

From: b******4
Subject: Hi Sent Date: 9/25/2010 11:03:28 PM

it would be great to get on my knees and worship the boots of a woman of Your stature! You have so much and You seem better than everyone! You are a true Goddess..it would be an honor to be Your slave

*sigh*

This would be the SAME asshole who said he wanted to lick my boots. Yeah. Now I don't know if I should block him or if I should keep going with it so I NEVER run out of material. Decisions, decisions. And someone PLEASE explain why the FUCK he capitalizes you.