It’s not surprising to find out I missed – my aim and timing is horrible.  You could throw a tennis ball right at me and I’d probably flail and bat it away rather than catch it.

But that’s not what I missed.  I missed being responsible, and I also missed being irresponsible – I did not do either one right.

I had credit card debt in my 20′s, not because I was spending money on lavish vacations and clothes and really cool experiences, but because I had my own insurance and was paying for my own medical supplies, not all of which were covered by insurance.  So yeah, I racked up debt in my 20′s, but I had no fun.

So now I have horrible credit because you know, I could never pay those bills.  I did once every three years or so, I’d pay off a credit card bill or a hospital bill that I was getting sued over, but I never paid them frequently enough to reestablish my credit. Now I can’t get a credit card.

I still have the medical bills.  As my dad put it as he was walking past me to go to bed the other night, “You know you have two people suing you for medical bills.  Goodnight”.  It is just a fact of my life that I will never be able to actually be irresponsible and blow money on something like, you know, a Porsche, because I am just constantly blowing all that money on X-Rays of my wrists and insulin pump supplies.

There was a brief period in my life when I didn’t have my own insurance and my dad paid for my stuff (under his insurance) where I DID blow money on theater, and that was awesome.  But it has been a good 15 years since I got into debt for a really good reason.  Now I can’t pay bills and my parents say “Where is all your money?” and I don’t say “Oh, I drove to Philadelphia for the weekend and saw RENT three times”, I say “Well, I had to buy three prescriptions, contact lenses, pay for two doctor appointments and pay off one of the 5 people coming after me for past due hospital bills, one of which I’m fairly certain was never even put through my insurance”.  That is SO FREAKING BORING!

I decided, screw it!  With all these medical bills, that means I’ll die early anyway, right?  No one can pay out that much money and live long!  So I thought I’d get a credit card, buy a few new black tee shirts (seriously, I am wild and there is no stopping me), possibly a new hoodie, and I will drive to Pennsylvania for the weekend to see my friend’s son’s first communion!!  WILD WOMAN!  But I can’t do that because I can’t get credit.

I don’t even have a credit card.  I had a Giant Eagle credit card that was actually attached to someone else’s account, and we all know that story – it was stolen and maxed out.  I did not even get to spend money irresponsibly on groceries, someone else did!

The last time I just said “to hell with it” was when I got my student loan refund and tax refund at the same time and spent a week in NYC, and I have NO REGRETS.  It was probably the best decision of my life.  That was 2009?  2010?  One of those.  After I paid off the credit card from that adventure, I made the mistake of canceling it, only to find I will never be able to open a credit card account again.  If I didn’t pay it off, I might still have a credit card to abuse.

I had to take money out of my 401K when I was unemployed (so that I could pay for my medical bills), and I decided I’d take out enough to pay off my car loan and all my cards.  I did, and then it turns out the financial people didn’t have me take the right amount out in taxes first, so my reward for sacrificing my retirement fund – that I contributed religiously to – is that I get to pay $1,200 in taxes now.

Sure, I have clearly not been financially responsible – but I have also not been irresponsible.  I didn’t get the benefit of the fun of living as if I have money and I don’t get the benefit of having money saved.  That kind of sucks.

On another note, I waited a month to post this so as not to expose the good person who did this.  Someone gave me $100 to show that there are good people who don’t steal money and credit cards, and he did it anonymously (I mean, I know who he is, but no one else does), and he did it just to show that things aren’t all that bad.  I keep trying to remember how amazingly random and kind that was, so when I get all bitchy about how things aren’t fair, I think about him and people like him (who are few and far between).  Then I try to make myself one of those people, so when someone else is having a bad time, they think “Well, Darcy is a good point in our lives”.  I think I’m kind of failing at that right now because I’m in a “life isn’t fair” phase.  Not fair for anyone, not just me.  A good part of the unfair things I’m upset about have happened to other people, not me.

Normally I write these stream of consciousness things when I’m panicking or in a lot of pain and under the influence of Percoset, but right now I’m writing it under the influence of a very small amount of Grey Goose vodka.  I don’t drink, so it doesn’t take much.  Here’s the infuriating part – vodka is addicting, kills your liver, is expensive, impairs judgement and the ability to do things, but it’s legal.  The reason I drank it was because I was so nervous, and I don’t have Klonopin, so I had a beverage.  Klonopin is not addicting, does not have side effects, and does not make me impaired.  One I can have as much as I want of, and the other I can’t have at all.  One is harmful and the other isn’t.  It seems like the choice is obvious, but because things aren’t fair, it’s not obvious.

OH – and this is my last rant.  ”No one said life is fair”.  I HATE that!  No one said a lot of things, but that doesn’t mean they don’t suck.  Just because no one said life is fair doesn’t mean that when it isn’t fair, it doesn’t suck.  Things don’t suck less just because no one said anything about it.  And if someone DID say “Hey, life isn’t fair!” it would not help my cause at all, not even a little bit.  It’s not like that statement would suddenly make me feel better about anything.  So who cares if no one said life is fair?  Why is that even a thing??  If you eat too much cereal and feel gross, do you sit there and say “Well, no one said not to eat too much cereal” and then everything is right again?  That phrase is just so useless, I don’t even understand why it exists.  Explain!

Omg, this is the best question EVER submitted via Ask the Darcy:

I once saw a question that stumped Dear Abby so I’m going to ask you because your answer is bound to be so much more interesting. If a man has to pass by a woman seated in a movie theater but it’s a tight squeeze, should he pass facing towards her or away from her. In other words, which is the least worse way of passing politely – crotch or rear end view?

That is just fantastic!  And it actually goes either way, if a woman passed a man, it is kind of the same issue.

And of course I have the absolute correct answer.  Regardless of who is doing the passing, the person sitting should stand up and scootch themselves back far enough so that a) you aren’t face to ass with someone;  b) you aren’t face to…not ass…with someone and c) you don’t have to worry about kicking knees by accident and stuff.  Then from there, the person passing can go whichever way they want because they will awkwardly be scooting as fast as they can and they won’t have to worry about which part of their body is in someone’s face.

The fault here is not with the scooting person, it is with the sitting person.  If you stay seated while someone is trying to get past you, you are a jerk.  You know your freaking knees come within an inch of the seat in front of you, how do you think anyone is going to get past that?  They aren’t, and by just sitting there you are saying “I’m a jerk and I want to make this as difficult for you as possible”.

It is possible that when this question was posed to Dear Abby, seats did not flip up in movie theaters (or even theater theaters) like they do now, which would make standing and scooting back a little difficult.  But you still do it!  That way the passing person is only potentially coming into contact with your knees and possibly part of your thighs, because you are bent backwards trying to avoid all physical contact with them.

While the sitter is bent backwards, it is the responsibility of the scooter to lean backwards in the opposite direction, towards the row in front of him/her.  This means it is the responsibility of the next row down to lean forward.

Now which way to face?  If you face towards the sitter, that means your ass is brushing up against the backs of the heads of the people in the row in front of you.  If you choose to face your ass to the sitter, depending on your height, your stomach and/or…not ass…are brushing up against the backs of the heads in front of you.  Again, if the row in front of you is doing their civic duty, they are leaning forward, so this is not an issue.  It is a group effort.

I have enlisted some friends to help demonstrate.

First, we have Katniss, who really wants to get to her seat next to Big Koala.  MooseMoose and Bellagio Bear are in the row in front.  Also, Katniss has a weapon and no one is following protocol to deal with that, but you know, they are stuffed animals so we can forgive them.  DaveMoose watches on as the events unfold.

MooseMoose, Bellagio Bear, Big Koala and Katniss (with DaveMoose watching) now demonstrate the proper procedure.

See how easily Katniss can scootch to her seat next to Big Koala without having to deploy her weapon?

Now look what happens when MooseMoose, Bellagio Bear and Big Koala did not cooperate (with DaveMoose watching).

Katniss went batshit and went all Hunger Games on MooseMoose, Bellagio Bear and Big Koala (while DaveMoose watched) and turned them into helpless tributes and littered the arena with her bows.  Look at that sassy look of triumph on Katniss’s face.

Let’s avoid turning future theatrical or movie events into a Hunger Games fight to the death.  Stand up, lean and follow proper procedure.

Ask the Darcy!

No animals were harmed in the creation of this demonstration.

We need to clear the air and discuss a very serious form of discrimination that is creeping into our country.  Teach your children from when they are born, Dog Racism will not be tolerated.

I sell pet insurance.  People call me and I tell them how much it will cost, and then they buy their insurance from me.  We have age limits – if your purebred dog is age 7 or older, he is only eligible for accident coverage, not accident and illness coverage.  Please note, it is based on your dog’s age, not your dog’s country of origin.

I thought it was pretty funny when I got the first call.  The caller said “So you won’t give my dog illness coverage because he’s german?”

I said no, it has nothing to do with that.  We can’t give your dog illness coverage because he’s 9 and a purebred.  She said “So I’m Mexican, are you saying I shouldn’t be allowed to have insurance”.  Now this threw me, it really did.  I was not expecting that.  She did not say her DOG is Mexican, she said SHE is Mexican.  I reiterated that it was because her dog is 9, it’s unrelated to her country of origin or the dog’s.  THEN she said “So then you’re saying that because I’m Mexican and over 30, you won’t give me health insurance”.  She wasn’t Mexican like “I don’t speak english very well and I am not understanding you”.  She was Mexican like maybe one of her grandparents visited there once.  I said that only thing I could think of, which was “You wouldn’t be able to use dog insurance at all, you are human”.

THAT VERY SAME DAY – a woman called about insurance for her Beagle, who was 4 years old.  Hey, he was eligible for accident AND illness coverage, yay!  But twice in the past year he’s eaten things he shouldn’t have and had to get them surgical removed.  We cover that stuff, but if it is happening more than once in a year (that requires surgery) in a non-puppy, that is considered a behavioral issue and we will stop covering the surgeries if they are happening more than once a year.  So the woman says to me “But he is a BEE-GULL”.  That’s how she said it.  With more of a pause in the middle, as if I am the most stupid person on earth and DUH, Beagles are SUPPOSED to eat things and require surgery.  You know, because Labs aren’t (Labs also eat everything) or Hound Dogs are (they eat everything).  Because this is a BEE…..GULL.  So I said “I understand that he’s a Beagle, but…” blah blah blah, my spiel about it being a behavioral issue.  Again, she says “HE IS.  A.  BEE…….GULL.”.  This is another English speaking person, it’s not like there was a lack of understanding.  Then she said that I am discriminating again him because he is a BEE………………………..GULL.  I said I’m not, that a lot of breeds eat things, but their owners usually train them not to (bad choice of words) and that is why it is behavioral.  Guess what she said?  I won’t even write it, you know what she said.  Then she went on about suing for discrimination (that actually only works on humans).  Somehow it came up that we don’t cover purebreds over age 7 for illnesses.  I don’t know how it came up, but it did.  She went in to a high pitched crazed thing about “filthy mixed breeds off the street” and how we’d cover them, but we are discriminating against her (I have to) BEE………………………………………………………………………………………………………..GULL.
I said that mixed breeds aren’t filthy (I took offense) and she basically said “whatever” and hung up.

TODAY a lady called and again with the 10 year old dog.  Mixed or not, we don’t cover 10 year old dogs for illnesses, just accidents (for new policies, if they’ve been under our plan and had illness coverage, they don’t lose it) (for the record).  She said “Why”, and I said “Because it’s one of the rules of our underwriters, there is a bigger risk the older a dog gets” and she said “So you don’t offer illness coverage for a 10 year old dog?” and I said “No” and she said “Why”.  I repeated what I said and she said “I want you to find out exactly why, you obviously don’t know”.  So I put her on hold and listened to my coworkers give me various ways of repeating the same thing so it sounds new, and I got back on and said “Because it’s one of the rules of our underwriters, there is a bigger risk the older a dog gets” and she said “So what you are saying is that your company hates older dogs and wants them all to die and you don’t even care about them.”  I said “I actually didn’t say that at all” and she said “DO NOT INTERRUPT ME YOU HAVE NO RIGHT INTERRUPTING ME LET ME FINISH WHAT I WAS SAYING”.  So I stopped talking and she said “What you are telling me is that you hate older dogs and you want them to die and you don’t care at all about them”.  I made sure she had stopped and I said “I never said that at all, what I said…” and she said “I TOLD YOU TO STOP INTERRUPTING ME YOU HAVE NO RIGHT INTERRUPTING ME”.  I couldn’t stop myself, so I got a little yelly and said “You just interrupted me, you weren’t talking, I was.”  More yelling about how I have no right talking when she is speaking, so I interrupted her to say “You interrupted me”.  Then she asked to talk to my supervisor.  Lisa got on the phone and the woman did the exact same thing to her – Lisa did not interrupt, but got yelled at for interrupting.  Lisa explained the same things I did and was “quoted” as saying we want older dogs to die, etc.  It ended with the woman wanting to talk to someone else.  We were running out of people to pass the phone to.

I like old dogs.

I like puppies.

I really hate it when people say I said something I didn’t.  The only time I completely, absolutely lost my mind (and cried) with a customer was when he told me he was going to post an article and he was going to quote me as saying I hate my company and that we lie and cheat.  Obviously, I didn’t say that at all.  In fact, during the whole conversation, I very vehemently described how my company is really freaking awesome and how we don’t lie and cheat.  He was just trying to freak me out, and he succeeded and I LOST MY SHIT on him.  You can quote me all night and all day as long as you are quoting me on things I actually said.  But you make shit up and say you are going to use my name, and I can not even handle it.  It was like, everything went black and the Hulk rage took over.  Words are important to me, mostly because I don’t lie at all ever, and if you put words in my mouth that I didn’t say, that is lying, and I won’t have it.  Wow does it make me mad.  I say enough things that could be quoted, why on earth would anyone need to make something up that I did not say?  Even worse is “So what you’re saying is…” because if you don’t repeat the exact same thing I just said, you have it wrong.  What I am saying is exactly what the words that came out of my mouth said.  You repeat those words, and yes, that is what I was saying.  If you do not repeat those words, the answer is no, that is not what I said.  How hard is that?? 

I like mixed breed dogs.

There is not a single animal I dislike, so when people accuse of me hating their pet, or whatever stupid story they come up with, I take it very personally.

I like cats.

I LIKE ALL OF THE ANIMALS. ALL OF THEM!!!!!!

Here is the usual – Ask the Darcy and Customer Satisfaction Survey!  GO DO THEM!

I have bunk beds.  I kept them actively bunked and I slept on the single bed created for a 13 year old until about two years ago.  They have been in every apartment and in my house since I was 12.  It’s not just some cheap ass bunk bed set, it’s a very nice heavy wood set, and it has the top bunk and the bottom bunk and you can rearrange them to fit a dresser underneath, and all kinds of things.

That is what my bunk bed set looks like, only dark wood, not light wood.

When my cat was little, she would jump from the bottom bed to the very tippy edge of the dresser, then on to the top bunk.  I started pulling the dresser out for her, and she would jump up there and then settle into her bed.  I started making the bed up just for her.  Everywhere I’ve lived since I have had my kitty, my beds looked like this so that she could have her bed.

AJ decided he needed a new bed a few years ago, and said that I needed a grown up bed, so I inherited his old bed which is a queen sized bed.  That takes up pretty much all of my bedroom.  I put the bunk bed in my “library”, without the bottom bed, and I put a desk under it.  I used to use my iMac there until my parents inherited my iMac and I just use my laptop.  But the bunk bed has always been there for Sabrina, and she has always used it up until recently.  Now she likes to snuggle with me a lot, so she does not go up on her bed as much, if ever.  Since there was no bottom bunk, she uses her kitty condo to jump up to the top bunk.

I felt very exposed and naked after being debunked and getting a grown up bed.  There was nothing above my head and there was no dresser hiding me from bad guys that might come in, because, you know, bad guys don’t look beyond a dresser, they just assume no one is there.  And if you have something above your head, especially something like a whole entire other bed, then they REALLY don’t mess with you.  Either because they know you are protected in your Cave of Happiness, or they think you are really super special and they can’t bring themselves to pillage and kill you.  Either way, adult sleeping in a bunk bed cave means safety.  Keep that in mind.

I got used to sleeping in a queen bed, mostly because it is no different than a single bed when you add a squishy kitty who is little but still manages to take up 3/4 of it.  I would still prefer a cave.

In my effort to move myself and all of my things into my two bedrooms upstairs (bedroom and the library room), I decided it was time to pass my amazing bunk bed set on to a worthy child.  My brother would not let me give it to them because I have two nieces, and one awesome bunk bed set, and that does not work out in niece world.  So my friend Karyn’s kid gets it.

This leads up to yesterday when I decided I would debunk the beds and take it all apart by myself.  This is normally, at the very least, a two person job – ideally a three person job. But no, I was going to do it myself because I am so strong and so physically capable (I hurt myself by sitting funny and couldn’t walk right for several weeks)(I am not physically capable in any way)(to do anything at all).  I started and was doing pretty well until I got to the part where I needed to be in three places, all about two feet apart from each other.  I needed to hold up the two end pieces that make up the ladder, and I needed to hold up the middle.  So I got stuck.  Yes, like, I could not move, I was stuck.  I had things balanced very precariously and I was holding the middle part and balancing the two very heavy end parts.  I had to call my 70 year old mother and her friend and they had to drive to my house and unstick me.

Chris, my moms friend, went straight to one of the ends that clearly needed to be held up and she held it.  My  mom, in her attempt to get to the other side and do the same thing, opted to take the most difficult route possible and essentially get herself stuck in another part of my room.  Like mother, like daughter.

This was humiliating for multiple reasons.  One, I hadn’t showered because I was cleaning. Two, I was not wearing a bra.  Three, I was covered and soaked in sweat because I had been working for about three hours prior to getting stuck.  Four, what kind of a dumbass tries to do this on her own and then gets stuck?!

I got everything taken apart and that was when I realized I have no chair.  This was a profound realization for me.  I went from college to a basement apartment.  From a basement apartment to a really nice apartment.  From a really nice apartment to a basement.  From that basement to my parents house.  At one point in this string of events, I had a fairly large apartment filled with furniture.  At THIS point in this string of events, I don’t have a chair.  My big plans to have a lovely sitting room were foiled because I’d have to sit on the floor, and I just don’t do that.  At my age, I feel I should have at least a chair to show for my life, you know?  Or a Chaise Lounge, that would be ideal.  I would love to have a Chaise Lounge to show for myself.  A really comfortable one, like the one my brother and sister in law have at their house.  

That is not really anything like what their looks like, but it was the closest I could find.  Theirs is all nice and squishy and not all hard looking like this one.  But the other pictures that I found were even less like theirs.

I forget what I was talking about so I’m going to go right ahead and talk about how much I hate when people call a sandwich a “sammy”.  I just can’t even stand that.  I won’t eat something if you call it a sammy, I don’t care how delicious it is.  There is no “m” in sandwich, so to call it a sammy means you are saying “samwich” and I hate that even more than sammy.  I LOVE sandwiches.  Cereal, potatoes, then sandwiches.  Those are the best food groups.  I do not like toasted bread on a sandwich, though, because then when you bite into it, it hurts the top of your mouth.

Don’t forget to Ask the Darcy and submit your opinion in my Customer Satisfaction Survey. If you don’t Ask the Darcy, I’ll just keep writing about whatever comes into my head, and that can be frightening.  For you, not for me.  I’m used to it there, although sometimes it is shocking to me as well.  And don’t forget, Ask the Darcy questions are not limited to questions – you can submit a word, a color, a noise, a description of something you found on your shoe, bad poetry, whatever you want!  I just like having things submitted to me, it makes me feel loved.  It is like you are saying, “I love you Darcy, so to you, I give a detailed description of a noise my car made earlier in the day but hasn’t made since”.

Someone ASKED THE DARCY!  Yay anonymous person!  The question was:

do you cook? if so, what’s your specialty?

I sort of cook!  Kind of!  I have a few things that I make really well, but I rarely make them.  I actually bake a lot better than cooking real food, but then my friend at work showed up with this amazing homemade cake and I realized, I really don’t bake all that well, either!

It had chocolate mousse and raspberries in the middle!

So anyway, I make a damn good lasagna.  I use those sheets of lasagna noodles that you don’t have to boil beforehand, and I spread ricotta cheese on them like I’m frosting them, because more cheese = good.  Then I put marinara sauce beefed up with extra tomatoes and spices and stuff, and then seasoned ground meat.  So that’s level 1.  Then I do another level of the noodles with ricotta cheese spread on them, and I mash it all down, and then I add more of the marinara, and a ton of shredded mozzarella and provolone.  Mash down with another layer of noodles, and repeat.  The ground meat is only on the bottom level, and you can also include ground up sausage, or whatever you want.  I would also put spinach in there, except my dad is afraid of green vegetables now, in addition to strawberries, so I don’t add spinach.  Then you bake it all and it is very cheesy and good.

I make the best grilled cheese in the world – but that doesn’t really count as cooking.

I make bean and ham soup and chicken noodle soup (like, not from a can, even!).

Shoot, I can’t think of anything else that I make.  I guess I don’t cook.  I am really good at microwaving things.  OH WAIT.  I make awesome mashed potatoes!!!  There!  That is cooking.

I guess I thought I could cook because I am a self sufficient eater, but when I think about it, I usually eat cereal or grilled cheese.  Or ice cream.

So my friend AJ just killed three spiders in his basement.  He does not like spiders.  I was going to tell him “Make sure you spray stuff at the top of the stairs so they can’t get upstairs” and then I realized that spiders don’t use the stairs and the door, they just kind of go where they want however they want.  That would be pretty funny if there was a group of spiders standing at the basement door trying to figure out how to get upstairs and get past the spider spray.

Today I was pretty sure I was dying, my lungs felt like I inhaled sand and my throat felt like there were hot stabby things in it.  I even called in sick to work, which I don’t normally do.  I was lying in bed, waiting to die, when the thought struck me that I might just be experiencing allergies.  Usually allergies in my world mean I’m itchy all the time, so I don’t know why I thought this might be allergies.  I took a Zyrtec, and lo and behold, a few hours later, no more stabbiness and no more sand in my lungs.  I feel like a moron that I called in sick for this.

On a related note, I nearly died on Monday because I ate one Sirracha potato chip.  ONE!  I know I’m allergic to chili powder, I didn’t think maybe I’m allergic to other spicy pepper things, too.  So I ate one and within an hour I was having hot flashes and my throat was all tight and not really allowing me to breathe, which I consider important.  I had to take Benedryl and I got Benedryl stoned at work.

My friend Erin congratulated me on a post I did about a week ago because I started on one topic and stayed on that topic the entire post.  I don’t think I have achieved that before or since.

I eat a lot of raspberries because I like them a lot and one time I bought a thingy of raspberries and I was happily eating them when I saw a little green worm working his way across the tops of the raspberries and I completely freaked out and threw the whole thing away and haven’t eaten raspberries (except in that awesome cake) since.  I really want some raspberries.  Another time, and I’m surprised I didn’t stop eating raspberries after this one, at Menchie’s when I worked there for the shortest time ever, there was a dead bee stuffed inside one of the raspberries.  After that I inspected every piece of fruit we put out because I didn’t want someone to eat a bee by accident.  There is also that picture that circulates every couple of years online of the frog inside a bag of lettuce that I really like to think is photoshopped.

I wish I liked blueberries, but I can’t stand the texture.  I can eat them if they are in yogurt with granola added in because then the granola outcrunches the texture of the blueberries.

Don’t forget to Ask the Darcy and complete the Customer Satisfaction Survey.