Death to HOTWIRE.COM!!!

You totally get what you pay for with Hotwire.

You want cheap? You got it. But at what cost?

I will tell you at what cost. It will cost you frustration. It will cost you time. It will cost you money. It may even cost you your dignity. No matter what it costs you, Hotwire.com owned by Expedia, will NOT care nor will they do anything to fix it without you having to pull teeth, fuss and bitch, complain and climb the corporate ladder.

It all started with a map.

Simple right? There is a map. It is labeled “La Guardia Airport Area- Flushing”. So you would think that your hotel will be where? In the La Guardia airport area in Flushing. Nope. And you better hope you are familiar with ANY area you are traveling to. Why?

Because “It is the customer’s responsibility to know the area and call the hotel listed to make sure they are where they need to be.” – Supervisor Tina M. in the Midwest area call center.

I find this difficult to swallow. One, because they hide the names of the hotels until after your purchase, there is NO WAY you would even know where to begin calling within that map. Two, because if you are not from an area, and you look at a map labeled “Flushing”, would you not assume that everything in that area is Flushing? I did. Stupid me. Being from North Carolina, I should have just “known” that East Elmhurst was an entire area aside from Flushing and not a burb name like SoHo.

Now, I had to go over this point with 2 reps before I even got to Tina M. The first one hung up on me when I asked for her supervisor. She was a B-I-T-C-H. I called her on it. She didn’t like that. Click.

The second, Bob C., put me on the compulsory pretend-to-get-my-supervisor hold, came back and lied to me about a supervisor not being around. Now, I work in a call center and have for years, both as a rep and a supervisor. I know damn well they don’t leave 500+ reps sitting around without supervision. So when he gave me that line of hooey, I told him I knew it was crap and that I would hold while he “found someone”.

You know what he did?

He asked me for my name and number, as if he didn’t already have that information right in front of him, and started his “canned closing”. I asked him if he heard me when I said I would hold. He gave me the closing again. I asked him straight out if he was going to hang up on me. He gave me his closing speech again. I asked Bob C. again if he was going to hang up on me. He finally asked if I would hold because, “I think a supervisor just became available.” Like magic, all of a sudden Tina M., supervisor in the Midwest Area was on the line.

Not that it helped.

So now we are back to it being my responsibility to call hotels randomly and check maps for exact streets to make sure they are in an area I know nothing about.  This is a load of CRAP. You know how I know it is a load of crap? Because as a “courtesy” to me, aka “please shut up and leave me alone you crazy lady”, I was offered a FULL REFUND. Of course, you KNOW there was a catch. There was no way of knowing when that refund would be “processed” by their offices. Now, because I didn’t have almost $400.00 extra dollars to toss around for the FIRST hotel room, I sure as HELL didn’t have an additional $400.00 for a second hotel room while I waited for Hotwire.com to get off their asses and process my refund in a “minimum of 7 to 10 business days”.

So I asked them to not refund my money, but to book a room of the same rating, etc in a hotel actually IN Flushing, NY.

This apparently was laughable, as they were doing me such a HUGE favor by offering me a refund to begin with. I was refused. So I did what I do when I feel that the service I have been given was equally as laughable. I asked for the name and contact information of the CEO / President of the company where I could lodge my complaint about the service I was given. Again, I was refused. Why?

Because Tina M., supervisor in the Midwest Area call center did not know his name.

What she DID however provide me with was a P.O.Box in Green Bay and a phone number in the 920 area code. Then I was given the super helpful information of only a name of a “corporate customer care contact”. Enter stage left: Ms. Amy Monfils. No number for Amy, no email for Amy. Only her name. Amy Monfils. I was to assume, I guess, that I was able to contact her at the long distance number I was provided earlier. I wasn’t told that, however. I should have just “known” it. Kind of like I should have “known” that the map titled “Flushing” included areas that were not Flushing.

So being the smart and resourceful girl I am, I hopped on Google.

Holy crap! The things you hear about someone on Google. Especially when they are not known for helping, but for their canned email answers and abilities of merely repeating back what your concerns were but never really addressing them. It was in these numerous posts that I found where someone had posted her email address. Guess what? Ms. Amy Monfils is not listed as Amy Monfils at all, but as akent@hotwire.com. I guess I should have “known” that she had gotten married and I should have “known” what her married name was. If that is even the case, as it was never really clarified. (BTW- if you need an alternate email for her, try HotwireCorpEsc@apacmail.com which is another way I found her listed in blogs as well as how her address is published in her replies to me.)

Now after all this… you would think they would be falling all over themselves to make things right. WRONG.

Now, don’t get me wrong. Ms. Monfils is very good at restating your concern. It’s an active listening technique they teach all of us good customer service people. And as one of the top ranked quality surveyed specialists in my center,  I would know. This would be great if she actually used that skill to listen and help as opposed to fill space and deflect. For example:

Me:

—–Original Message—–
From: XXXXXXXXX
Sent: Thursday, November 05, 2009 9:28 PM
To: HotWire Support – Temp Forwarding
Cc: akent@hotwire.com; akent@hotwire.com
Subject: RE: ‘CustSrvTH=181-921′ Hotwire Help: Hotels
Importance: High

Dear Sirs,

While I do certainly find your site’s information and maps to be incorrect, misleadingly labeled and lacking, I find your customer service and supervisors even worse. I have been in customer service and call center supervisory roles for 13+ years and I have never kept employed any reps who would talk to a customer the way I was spoken to today. Also, I have always been able to tell a customer who inquired, the president and/or CEO’s names upon request and expect my employees to be able to do so as well. It is shameful the way this situation was handled by your employees, therefore your company.  

If you will note, I did not refuse the refund I was begrudgingly offered because it was an unacceptable solution, but because of the fact that the funds would not be returned to me immediately, making purchasing another room in the CORRECT location impossible. As I have a disability, I do not have extra money to throw around while your company takes its time to make this right. I will be using the reservation as it stands, not because I agree with your bad business practices and horrible customer service, but because I have no other feasible choice.

Monfils:

From: HotwireCorpEsc@apacmail.com
To: XXXXXXXXXX
Date: Mon, 9 Nov 2009 09:05:31 -0600
Subject: RE: ‘CustSrvTH=181-921′ Hotwire Help: Hotels

Dear XXXXXX, 

I am writing in response to your inquiry to Hotwire regarding a hotel reservation in East Elmhurst. 

I understand you booked a hotel reservation in the La Guardia Airport LGA – Flushing Area, New York expecting the hotel to be located in Flushing. Upon confirming your reservation you discovered the hotel’s address was not within Flushing. As such, you reached out to Hotwire Customer Care and were dissatisfied with the service you received.

I regret your Hotwire hotel experience was less than exceptional and appreciate you took the time to express your concerns. Customer feedback is an important component in ensuring quality products and services at Hotwire. 

To ensure our customers concerns are handled properly, we hold our Customer Care Associates accountable by recording all our phone calls. I personally reviewed the conversations you had with three of our agents and determined the calls were properly handled.

I understand one of your concerns was the name of our CEO was not provided when you spoke with one of our supervisors. The corporate contact address provided was correct; the name of the President of the Hotwire Group is Clem Bason. Please understand I handle all customer contacts on his behalf which is why my name is provided by our agents. 

Our goal is to exceed your expectations; we regret we were unable to do so on this occasion.

Best regards,

Amy L. Monfils

Customer Care Relations

Hotwire Corporate Office

Ms. Monfils did very well at repeating my concerns. Right before she essentially told me “Too bad, so sad.”

Me:

—–Original Message—–
From: XXXXXXXXXXX
Sent: Monday, November 09, 2009 4:14 PM
To: akent@hotwire.com
Subject: RE: ‘CustSrvTH=181-921′ Hotwire Help: Hotels
Importance: High

Ms. Monfils,
  If you had indeed truly listened to all 3 calls, which we both know that calls are randomly recorded and that not every call is captured, you would not feel that the calls were handled properly. Additionally, though your name was given, your contact info was not, also something you would know had you actually heard all 3 calls. I had to research the web for info on you which I only found in other negative blogs and posts about your company where the writer posted your verbatim canned email responses. Your email address that we are corresponding on now isn’t even in your name. I lucked out finding that. Had I not taken the time to do the research, my ability to stand up for myself against your company’s misleading maps and map titles would have had to stop there.
 
  Considering that you feel that nothing was wrong in how things were addressed nor in the way the map is listed, I will have no choice but to make VERY certain that everyone I know learns of what has transpired with your company. Something that I’m sure you would agree on, again had the calls truly been listened to in their totality and entirety, is that I do not have a problem being very vocal about my opinions. Neither do my friends or family. I’m sure the executives at Hotwire and Expedia Travel will be thrilled to learn that a negative blog was published in a high traffic area about an experience that very easily could have been made right with even the smallest amount of effort on anyone at Hotwire’s part.
 
  Additionally, aside from the map issue, I have a LARGE complaint about the actual hotel where I stayed. This place was atrocious. Semen stains on the bedspread when I checked in to my first room – which was barely big enough to hold the king size bed with any additional room to move. The “new” room I was placed in had mismatched dingy sheets and the towels were also dingy and mismatched as well as rougher than sandpaper. The room’s carpet was filthy, the bathroom water faucet ran constantly, and the doorknob fell off twice. These issues were addressed with the staff and not properly corrected. Heat / AC were interchangeable, as neither worked properly. The “pad” of paper supplied was ONE sheet ripped off a tablet and the pen had something sticky and crusty dried all over it. The ironing board fell off its hook and smacked me in the head and the luggage rack collapsed the moment I placed my bag on it. The “breakfast facilities” were dirty and the food was stale and disgusting. If I had paid $40.00 for this room, it would have been too much, let alone $89.00 before taxes. The fact that this hotel, with it’s “Grand Opening” sign hanging out front, is being sold to any customer is an affront to your customers’ intelligence and their pocketbook.

BTW- This hotel was a Clarion on Ditmar in East Elmhurst, also known to Hotwire as “Flushing.”

Monfils:

From:	akent@hotwire.com (HotwireCorpEsc@apacmail.com)
Sent:	Tue 11/10/09 10:57 AM
To:	XXXXXXXX

Dear XXXXXXX,

I am writing in response to your additional correspondence with Hotwire regarding a reservation with the Clarion Hotel La Guardia Airport and your Hotwire Customer Care experience.

I understand you doubt whether or not I reviewed all three phone conversations you had with Hotwire Customer Care because calls are only randomly recorded. Additionally, you intend to voice your concerns regarding the information provided to customers throughout our booking process and the way you were treated by our Customer Care Associates. Finally, you were dissatisfied with your stay at the hotel due to several quality issues. 

Again, I assure you I was able to review all three phone conversations as all calls at the call center you reached are recorded. While speaking with our Customer Care Supervisor, Tina, she provided my name and phone number when you asked for the name of our President as contact information for our CEO is not provided to customers. I regret she was unable to provide you with the name of our CEO, however, I do feel she provided the correct contact information for the next level of customer interaction.

Regardless of a hotel’s star rating; you should expect a quality experience from our hotel suppliers, including a clean, comfortable room. As this was not the case with your reservation, please accept our apologies along with 50 HotDollars toward your next Hotwire Hot Rate car rental, hotel, or flight reservation. Your HotDollars are valid for up to one year, expiring on November 11, 2010. 

Our goal is to exceed your expectations; we regret we were unable to do so on this occasion. We look forward to better serving your needs in the future.

Best regards,

Amy L. Monfils

Customer Care Relations

Hotwire Corporate Office

 

Fifty bucks? Is she kidding?!?

I paid $89.00 plus taxes PER NIGHT and you want to give me $50.00 in Hot Dollars?? In so many words, I emailed her back and told her that her $50.00 would not cover one night let alone 3 and that her $50.00 would only force me to frequent their site again and give them more money to pay the difference.

As of 1:32 a.m. on 11/12/09…. I have yet to receive a response.

Soooo… with all this said, I shout from the rooftops,

“DEATH TO HOTWIRE.COM!!!” (Then I mumble as an afterthought, “Oh, and if not death, at least a really uncomfortable wedgie to Expedia for having such a substandard division.”)

PS- I am now as we speak being stalked, I mean “followed” on Twitter by Hotwire…

Also check out:

 http://www.cgstock.com/essays/hotwire 

http://www.chasingcleanair.com/chasing_clean_air/2009/08/hotwirecom-hot-wired-my-money-lied-to-me-and-has-zero-credibility-in-my-opinion-.html

http://www.rateitall.com/i-57788-hotwire.aspx

for additional Hotwire horror stories!!

Where do I go from here?

I have big dreams and a passport that allows me to think that I could one day fulfill them.

I want to go places. I long to do things I never have. I am creating a sort of “Bucket List” but not because I’m dying. I just feel like I want to sometimes. So, maybe if I make this list, it will give me the determination to keep going, to get over the hump, and find the happiness I so desire.

Here goes:

1. Visit Japan and find an authentic kimono that will fit me and revel in its silken softness against my skin. Trim a bonsai tree pruning away the unwanted branches, creating art that will grow and change each day. Admire a natural beauty like cherry blossoms with a mountainous backdrop and be grateful for being able to inhale their perfumes in such an exotic setting.
2. Visit China during Chinese New Year, taking in the joy of those around me who are celebrating the continuation of love, life and family for another 365 days. Taste the cuisine of the country as it actually should be made, not covered in fried batter and served with a sticky red muck. Walk the Great Wall, realizing that very large walls have their time and place for being useful, but that walls that were once useful in practicality can stay around a long time without true purpose.
3. Visit Ireland in Spring. To be graced by the spirits of my ancestors as they teach me that renewal is a wonderful thing, with the new life of spring surrounding me like warm welcoming arms, knowing that even the dead can teach us something about family loyalty and patience. Even if my body cannot bring forth a new life in Spring, my heart and spirit can, and I should open it back up to love from others.
4. Go to the Taj Mahal. Visiting an icon of true and lasting love, realizing that it is possible if you allow it. At the same time, learning that obsession with one’s heart can be consuming and devastating if you allow it. Taking in the beauty of the pools and fountains as they constantly trickle their voices in my ears crying to me to soothe my hurt and to leave my tears from love with them and start anew.
5. Explore the pyramids of Egypt, to realize that building monuments to yourself does nothing but leave an opportunity for others to rob from you what you valued. Learning that one should use it now, share it now, and let what you have done for and in the world be your monument. Take time to enjoy the art and wonderment of it all, knowing that humanity in all its flaws can create lasting decadence for others to appreciate and submit their souls to.
6. Visit South Africa and learn that there are, among those who are wealthy, the poor that are happy and peaceful and grateful for what they have. Commune with those who have fought for what they believe in, for trying to bring together people of all colors and diversities and allowing them to have the rights and equality they deserve. To graze on their courage and strength, taking it in and hopefully becoming more courageous and strong from the experience.

Six items may seem like a short list.

If I ever have the chance to do ANY of the items on that list, I will have been given the greatest gift ever. Any of those experiences would be enrichment enough to carry through a lifetime.

I want to dance, sing, love and live this life I have been given.

Now I just need to find the strength and courage to figure out… where do I go from here??

Me. Defined.

There are those who would define themselves fairly easily. Spouse. Friend. Parent. Owner. Master. Humanitarian. Happy. Humble. I have never found it easy to define myself. Not in one word. Not in two. Hell, I probably couldn’t do it in 10. Not 10 words, not 10 sentences, not in 10 paragraphs or even in 10 chapters.

Holy shit, I doubt I could do it in 10 lifetimes.

Now, here’s the rub. If I can’t define myself, how is it that others seem to be able to accomplish my definition with such ease? As of late, I have had no shortage of labels thrust upon me. Everyone seems to have me all figured out. Figured out, boxed in, signed, sealed and delivered right to hell in a handbasket. Well, more like a basket case.

Basketcase?! Now seating Basketcase! Basketcase, party of one, your table is ready!

Of all the things I have been called in the years since birth, only a few have really struck me as memorably hurtful. Things that were said that have never been forgotten, no matter how much I have wanted to forget them. And you never forget the people who said them, either. Never. Not their voices, not their faces, not the scent in the air at the time or the smell of their breath as the words were uttered.

You may not know it, but it was you.

So I have decided to compile a list of how I have been defined. These items, in no particular order of occurence or impact, are the ways I have been defined that I remember the most. For those who said them, you know you said it. For those who didn’t, you know you didn’t. If you meant to be hateful and hurtful, you know it. If you didn’t, you know that, too. Maybe reading over such an uncomfortable list will give someone, anyone, a bit of clarity as to why I am the way I am, or who I have become. If it doesn’t, then you weren’t really interested in learning anything other than what you have already decided in your head is the definition of… me.

• victim
• hater
• fat ass
• waste of space
• waste of air that I breathe
• drama queen
• ugly
• bitch
• spiteful
• draining
• hateful
• bitter
• inconsiderate
• cunt
• frigid
• martyr
• self-serving
• selfish
• psycho
• over emotional
• over dramatic
• angry
• irresponsible
• surly
• awful
• bossy
• obtrusive
• troublesome
• worrisome
• fraudulent
• false
• liar
• cheater
• thief
• frustrating
• infuriating
• brat
• ungrateful
• whiny

and, and, and….

You are probably wondering why the list is so extensive and all negative. Well, since we are busy with definitions and perceptions, let’s call a spade a spade here. Let’s point out the elephant in the room. The 800 pound gorilla. Let’s just get it out.

Who the FUCK remembers the shit??

When you are defined by others on such a consistently negative level, why would you remember anything else? No one remembers being told they were pretty, generous, loving, funny or talented when it has only been sparsely peppered in with the types of descriptions on that list. What is the worst advertising a company can get? Bad word of mouth. Why? Because no one remembers positive when there is such an overwhelming abundance of negative. So when you absolve yourself of hateful, hurtful things you say and do with a rationalization that you have said and done good things as well, keep in mind what the truth of the matter is…

That is so much bullshit.

So call this what you will. Define this diatribe however the hell you want. Place labels all over it in any color marker or post-it note that strikes you. Whatever helps you sleep at night. I’ve been defined previously. This won’t be the last time. In words I have heard forever, but are now the catchphrase of our times, “It is what it is.” But here’s my point. No matter how the hell you or anyone defines me, I am what I am. And I am not changing for you or anyone else… Ever.

Take me or leave me.

“You can’t handle the truth!” … Umm, do I LOOK like Tom Cruise to you?!

A Few Good Men, c. 1992

Col. Jessep: You want answers?
Kaffee: I think I’m entitled.
Col. Jessep: *You want answers?*
Kaffee: *I want the truth!*
Col. Jessep: *You can’t handle the truth!*

Well, I may not look like Tom Cruise, but I do think I’m entitled to the truth. Is that so much to ask? I don’t even put down psychiatric care or cram Scientology down your throat. So…

What is it about me that screams out to people, “Lie to meeee! Please, lie to me!!”

In the last 5 years, I have been looked at, right in my frikkin eyes and lied to on numerous occasions. Little falsehoods: “Yes, I walked/fed/watered the dogs.” Big whoppers: “No, I didn’t sleep with our friend I work with.” Half-truths: “I am ready for a relationship and love you more than anyone I ever have.” Any way you put it, lies. Now, don’t get me wrong. I know everyone gets lied to. It just seems like people feel like they have to lie to me. Sometimes, it’s not even to protect themselves.

Sometimes, it’s to protect me.

Gee. Thanks? Really? How does one take that? To me that says a few things.

• It is possible that they think that I am intellectually incapable of processing the information. Like I am Forest Gump and I may not be a smart man, Jenny…
• That they may consider me too emotionally fragile to hear that they are assholes. You never know, maybe I will break into a million shards like Superman’s fortress of solitude when he gave up his immortality at the mere thought that humanity has let me down.
• Or possibly they find my mind too feeble and riddled by MS to think I will ever catch on and they don’t want me to have to face that this disease has robbed me of another aspect of my life.

Could it be possible that your rationalizations do not change the fact that YOU LIED.

My reaction to your lie, no matter how one would like to justify the lie itself, is my reaction. I own it. You don’t like it? Don’t lie. I hate liars. Just FYI… So, when I catch you in one and rip you to shreds, don’t use the fact that I ripped you to shreds last time be your excuse for not telling me the truth next time. No lies = No getting caught = No bad reaction. DUH. Another thing about me and liars…

No matter how much I know being a liar is a flaw in your character, not mine, I will always blame myself for not seeing it or figuring it out sooner.

Case in point: A previous boyfriend and I broke up several months ago. We’ll call him “Yames” (pathetic, I know, but deal… tee hee hee). At the time of the breakup, I took a portion of my luggage to his house to drop off his shit as I was tired of dealing with it. Over the next month, I left Yames message after message, text after text, asking for the return of said luggage as well as other items that I found he either still had and I needed or that I found out he had kept as, uhhh, “souvenirs” that I wanted back.

Hey, don’t laugh. Pretty panties in my size are EXPENSIVE! I wanted them back!

I finally had to ambush him at home after work one night where I was in his kitchen talking to his mom and his sister waiting for him. He finally retrieved my luggage without two words, because his ass knew what I was there for. As he walks away, I notice the luggage has airline tags on it. Not a big deal as I have used this luggage for travel, until I notice it is a Continental tag. I don’t fly Continental. Here is where I made my mistake. I knew they weren’t mine, yet I asked a question I already knew the answer to, thus begging to be lied to.

“Yames, did you use my luggage to go somewhere?”

Now, I know. There was no need for that question. If he did, he did. Nothing can be done about it. Nothing can be changed by the answer except beating myself up about where he went, for what, blah, blah, blah. But I was expecting a “Yeah, so what?” or “None of your business. We aren’t together anymore.” or even the response “Yes, sorry. I didn’t realize you were asking for it back because you needed it yourself.” The answer I got, you ask? “No. Nope. Uh uh.” At first, like an idiot, I believed him. Hmmm maybe it’s an old tag I forgot was on there. Maybe I let Don use it. Maybe Continental was giving away airline luggage tags at the gym he goes to and he was using my luggage as a tote bag? Maybe this isn’t even my bag?

Maybe I am an idiot.

His sister sent me a text later that she felt badly that I was beating myself up for accusing him of using the bag I told him I needed, and that he had indeed used it to fly to Philly recently to see a girl he had met online. ”Ahhhhhhh! Insult to injury, insult to injury!!!! Danger Will Robinson! Danger!!” You douche! You used my bag for a bootie call when you knew I needed it that same weekend, causing me to end up using my old broken luggage AND you lied about using it causing me to second guess my sanity?? Inglorious basterd. (And, yes, he still has my underwear. No, he did not give it back when asked. Yes, he lied about having kept it… you know you were gonna ask.)

I curse you Yames Von Liarston!!!!

So what have I done, as it’s soooo obviously not evidenced in the Carly Simon-esque “You’re So Vain” blog about it? I have obsessed over the fact that he lied for days now. Why did he do that? What were his motives? Was he lying our entire relationship? Did he lie when he said he loved me? Was I just too blindly pulled in? Do I look stupid? Was it me? Was it, why did, how could… Holy shit, brain!!! STOP IT!!

I have come to this conclusion. Liars will be liars. Always. Without fail.

This is not my fault. If I go through life expecting the lie and guarding myself from it, then I close myself off to finding something good in this world because I don’t want to be hurt again. Everyone lies. It’s true. I would rather be open to love and friendship than lose out on them because I didn’t want to be hurt by lies and protective half-truths.

Okay, that was a lie… but I was doing it to make you feel better.

Family is the Tie that Binds… Relationships Just Strangle the Sh!t Outta You.

My family is all that keeps me afloat most days.

Well, them and my dogs. It seems that ever since I left my marriage on winged happy feet of relief with a rosy outlook and a song in my heart, there has been an astronomical amount of pain. Physical, emotional, spiritual, complete and total, and all encompassing ache has ruled me. Is it  because I miss my marriage? Hell to da NO.

It is the struggle to maintain a semblance of who I wanted to be and still build in who I actually am.

It’s a finalization of something that needed to end. But the battle to keep it civil and still maintain a sense of dignity has been hard. Have I mentioned that I’m Irish? Yeah, good luck with that whole temper thing there. But in all this my mother has been my rock, and at times I wanted to strangle her for it. Her calm head for business, management and problem-solving is well beyond my capacity for replication or even ability to understand. Can it irritate the crap outta ya, too? Sure. But I love her and she would never tell me to do something or say something that would purposefully hurt me.

A tie that binds.

Ex-husbands who squeeze the emotional and physical life out of you are a different beast. Yes, beast. That’s just the way I feel. The constant incessant whining about how he won’t be screwed, how hewon’t give up the son he ignores (obviously because of the nice adoption subsidy check he get each month… another blog entirely), how he needs to feel safe is enough to drive anyone crazy.

A relationship that strangles.

My sister-in-law is a saint; an absolute ear to listen, shoulder to cry on, hug you when you need it kind of gal. She is younger than I am, yet far wiser. She has a relationship with God that sees her and my brother through some of the toughest times. I have no such relationship, but she is very careful to respect that with only the occasional nudge in that direction. If I went to her tomorrow and said I needed her arm, if she wasn’t holding her children with it at the time, she would pop it off and hand it to me with the one that was left with a smile and tell me to give it back when I could. She is my friend, not just my family. She is more family to me than some family is.

She is a tie that binds.

I dated only a few times after my separation before I decided I wasn’t ready to date yet. I was being pushed, quite steadily I might add, by my ex-husband to start dating because he wanted me “to be happy”. (This should be read as, “I started dating the minute you packed the truck and I feel guilty about it…”) I digress. I finally managed to meet someone I felt was worth my time. He was wonderful. Made me feel attractive again, beautiful even. I was getting the respect I was expecting. The love that I wanted. I lived in a relationship where we never fought. It was wonderful! Until it wasn’t. After almost 6 months of serious and exclusive dating, he suddenly pulled the plug. It was devastating. A relationship that you want to get out of is a lot easier to get over than one you wanted to stay in and were ejected from without warning. I was thrown from that car fast and hard with the seatbelt still around my neck.

A relationship (ending) that strangled.

I have never been what you call a daddy’s girl. But when things have gone really bad over the last few years, I have been able to count on my daddy. Yep. I still call him Daddy. Well, not still. I never remember calling him that as a child. But as an adult, I have not just built a relationship with my father, but with my daddy. He isn’t the cuddly type and doesn’t say I love you easily. But he does say it. And when I was at my lowest recently, although I had to ask him for it, he hugged me as I sobbed. It made him uncomfortable as hell. But he did it and stood there until his shirt was soaked and then told me to “blow your nose and let’s go eat.” That’s my daddy.

A tie that binds.

I realize that I am luckier than some in certain ways because of these ties. I also realize that I have some sucky-ass issues that will never be fixed, like my health; that will never go away… ever. I am aware that the stranglers of the world exist. I am very aware. Yet I am eternally grateful, though I may not show it sometimes, for those people in my life who bind me to them and do not let go. Thank you.

Please continue to hold on. I love you for it…

Oh, Puh-leeze. Who Are We Kidding?

“It’s not the perception of how the world sees you that matters, but how you see yourself…”

I said this to someone recently, and at the time meant it as it related to them in that conversation about a label someone once placed on him. However, on a normal basis, I see this type of snowy white view of the world to be insipid drivel and, well… pbffft…

Bullshit.

Some like to think that our own self-image is reflected to others cosmically and that we bring what we truly want upon us and positivity brings said positivity. All right. Gump it up, Mr/Mrs. Stoopid is as stoopid duhz. Congratulations, you just made your existence a cliche’. But inside we all know that is so much crap.

We as human fallible creatures are programmed by nature, God, or whatever to be attracted to pretty. Not smart. Not positive. Pretty. If smart comes with pretty, the chances of that alpha female bearing more children are good. Smart and butt-ass ugly? Not so much. Have you ever seen the skinny/fat pimple faced kid wearing the clogs and Star Wars shirt flick her hair or wink his eye and immediately be surrounded by cooing buxom babes or a scad of tan and blonde six pack sporting gorgeous bucks just begging to mate with them?

I don’t think so, Tim.

Wouldn’t it be nice if our true personalities were worn on our skins like the results of our genetic encoding is? Then you could easily spot the assholes a mile away, even if you couldn’t smell them coming. Beauty? Check. Grace? Check. Virility? Check? Scumbag? Damn!

Man! I was this close!

Move on to the next. No fuss, no muss, no wasted time, tears, hurt feelings or misperceptions of what was meant vs. what was said. Blammo! Instant better society as we bred out scum and created Utopia once more. Garden of Eden here we come!! Snake? What snake? (This is a question as a non-religious person I ask a lot, but not in this context or blog.) No more “surface only” pretty to distract us from a greater purpose.

That shit ain’t happenin’.

So I will continue to be overlooked by some, and have my breasts obsessed over by others. I will continue to meet some real weirdos. I will continue to be laughed at, made fun of, degraded or asked to show my ass to someone on my Yahoo webcam. I will have to continue to avoid instant messages from Nigerian scam artists hoping to get a jolly and my measly little $30.00 in my checking account with their latest simpering sob story.

I will also make some wonderful connections along the way.

Will they all be pretty? Nope? Do I have to censor myself to keep this expectation of others equal to what I myself hold to? Sure. My survival-of-the-fittest instinct is the same as yours. However, not having the ability to have children affords me the ability to look deeper than breeding material.

And I like it… Most of the time.

Anyone have Ryan Gosling’s phone number??? Mmmmm, Papi!

With a Smile on My Face and a Song in My… iPod??

Okay, most of you know that I have been an emotional WRECK lately. Not just a wreck, but let’s be honest, a multi-car pileup. I was the accident that no one wanted to look at or know about, but some just couldn’t help themselves.

All right rubberneckers! Move it along! Nothing to see here, you lookie-loos!

Yeah, yeah. I know. I was a walking soap opera. But Guiding Light is going off the air and they needed something to fill the time slot. I nominated myself and the test market of me, me and me agreed and away we went.

What’s my point?

Music.

Huh? Is she nuts? (Yes, I can read minds too. I know it’s scary, but I won’t tell anyone what you were just thinking about prior to reading my blog; I know it’s personal…)

Yes, you read it right. Music has been both my anchor and my albatross. It’s what I have used to allow myself to cry. It has given me permission to dance; to scream; to howl; to stomp and flail my arms above my head. It has empowered my anger and deepened my sorrow.

Being the ever emotional and sensitive soul, I have always felt a deeper connection with music than just a catchy melody or a booty shakin’ beat. I don’t just hear the hook. I don’t just hear the vocals. I LISTEN to them. I associate every word, every nuance with something in my head going on in my life past or present.

It makes the music very personal.

I build playlists that revolve around mere moments in my day or week. Jason Mraz for James, Blue October for depression, Katy Perry and Lily Allen for Don, Top 40 for the shower… the list goes on and on. I even have one called “Sexy Bitch” for… uh, never mind. Every song has a meaning, every meaning an emotion, every emotion a consequence.

There is a problem with this. A big one.

I can’t listen to certain playlists or songs without thinking of the reason they were built. Songs I once loved are tarnished forever by the tainted memory that was ruined, the hurt it brings back, and the tears it causes. But I miss my music. I miss being able to dance to a song that used to make me want to. Instead I cry. This, my dear friend, is a freakin’ BUMMER. When a person is ruled by music as her escape, what does she do when her escape is stolen from her?

She takes is back, dammit.

It’s MINE. Sure, I’m gonna cry. Absolutely, I am going to remember the bad stuff. For now. At some point, I will remember the joy that made me love the song to begin with; the good memory that made me embrace it instead of the bad one that made me unable to listen to it without flooding my apartment and having to buy stock in Puffs. (Which by the way, I do NOT recommend the ones with lotion for long term crying use unless you want to also invest in Proactive and Visine. Deal with the raw nose. Trust me…) I will continue to belt out Carrie Underwood at the top of my lungs while dabbing at my eyes and wiping away snot. That is, until I belt it out only noticing the passion that is now in my voice when I sing it.

Passion… Isn’t that what it’s all about?

We all search for our passion. Music has always been mine. Had American Idol been around when I was young enough to qualify, Paula would have been hailing my passion for the music, Randy would have said I was great but not good enough for Hollywood. Simon, ass that he is, would have said I sucked. I would have been the contestant that told Simon that he could kiss my butt and stick his yellow paper where the sun doesn’t shine. Why? Because music is my passion. Mine.

And I refuse to let anyone, anyone, take that from me.