Wednesday, 4 March 2015

Fuck The Sheep



Holy moly do I hate hospital waiting rooms. 
If I never hear “have a seat and wait for your name to be called” 
again, it would be too soon. 

I broke my foot doing something stupid, and was in a cast for an entire summer, which meant frequent hospital visits. 



I know I brought it upon myself but I already felt like a piece of shit for ruining my summer. The last thing I needed was more time to think about what I had done. But what else is there to do in a waiting room? 

You spend enough time in one of those things, you’ll start to think all the doctors are against you, making you wait on purpose while they party and watch you from the security cameras, in the hospitals champagne room. 

Nearly three hours after the scheduled time of my appointment, my name was called. The funny thing is, doctors are probably always behind schedule because patients are pissed off waiting, wondering why the people before them are taking so fucking long, that when it’s their turn they take their sweet ass time with the doctor, asking billions of useless questions all to avenge the time out of their lives that they’ve wasted...waiting! It’s a vicious cycle. 

Get in.
Get out.
Fuck! 

As I hobbled my way to the private room where I was told to “have a seat and wait for the doctor,” which was fine, cause by then I had mastered waiting and was ready for the big leagues, like the passport office or something, I see a little girl. 

I was in the fracture clinic part of the hospital, so the kid obviously broke something, but I couldn’t tell you what, because I was so distracted by her outfit. There she was, all but thirteen years old, wearing:
  • sandals with two different socks
  • both socks with random characters or puppies or whatever all over them, rolled up to her shins
  • bright coloured shorts. Bright.
  • the weirdest freak’n t-shirt I’ve ever seen, also with random characters or puppies or whatever
  • bits and pieces of conflicting costumes (I’m talking like angel wings and pirate patch conflicting. Keep in mind... it was August.
  • big-ol-glasses
  • and the piece de resistance, cat ears. Not sexy slutty cat ears. Plush, lifelike, homemade, cat ears that looked like she had been wearing them everyday, since she was of age to dress herself. The ears looked so old that it seamed as if they had been passed down from generation to generation. An heirloom, if you will.
I looked at that little girl up and down and I said to myself 

“what the fuck?” 

Do you know what happened after that? 

She left that hospital still wearing that outfit.
She spent the rest of her day still wearing that outfit.
I went in to see the doctor.
Then I went home and we both woke up the next morning in our own lives, me still broken and her probably back in those cat ears, staring into her closet, trying to figure out what “weird” shit she was going to put on that day. 

That’s what happened.



We don’t need anymore people in this world following the flock, the sheep got it covered. 

What we do need, are more people that are smart enough to realize that nobody pays attention as much as we think they do. You know why? People are so focussed on what everyone else is thinking of them, that that’s all their thinking about. You’d be silly to think that they’ve got time to worry about the run in your stockings or the fact that your zipper broke. 

Are you for real? 

They don’t have that kinda space in their head! Take advantage of the self involved and do and wear the things that you really want to. I repeat:


 THEY ARE NOT PAYING ATTENTION.  

And if they are, it’s only cause they need to know what not to do, so they’ll fit in with all the other sheep. Don’t argue with them or defend yourself against the scoff of the women who said:

 “um there’s a stain on your jeans.” 

I know, I know, all you want to say is: 

“how does it effect your life that there’s a stain on my jeans?” 

But you’re better off to keep your mouth shut. The more of them that follow, the more room people like me and Cat Ears have to play. Majority of them just keep their thoughts and opinions to themselves, until they are around other people who share the same thoughts and opinions. 

Also known as: "Safe" 

Followers are on a lifelong quest to get to Approval. I don’t want to be the person who breaks the news to them, that Approval... is just a myth. 

Fuck that! Let them chase something that was made up by people who needed approval because they never approved of themselves, so they built this fake destination all so they wouldn’t have to go it alone. Happy hunting. 

While they’re off searching, and wasting a butt load of money, I’m just going to stay behind and do things the E way. Let them make fun of me for it. At least E is a real place. 

Let me know how getting nowhere works out for you.


One day I was on a bus, on my way home from work. As was everybody else on the bus, you could tell by the “this is just until I win the lottery” look on all their faces. I was sitting where I always sit, at the back of the bus, by the window. I like to sit there so I can see everything and everyone. The bus had stopped to pick up more passengers and I could see and hear that one of them was a pain in the ass. He was a young guy, I wouldn’t give him no more then eighteen years old. I’m not one to judge a book by its cover but it was obvious that this kid was taking a crack at the “Thug Life”. He had the fake limp, oversized clothing, and kissing of the teeth down to an art. Which I hear are the staples. 

Swell. 
We are going to call him Thug Life.
TL for short. 

When TL got on the bus, he wasted no time when it came to harassing the bus driver, calling him an asshole and every other name under the sun. Bus drivers can be dicks, 100%, but whatever the bus driver had done, was not deserving of the venom that kid was spitting. Everyone on board looked uncomfortable and concerned that TL might be looking for trouble. 

I continued to watch. 

As TL made his way to a seat, he made sure every passenger on the bus knew he was a tough guy. He laughed at people, he made fun of people and then he chose the worst seat he could have possibly chosen. He sat down beside a gentlemen two rows in front of me. The man that he sat beside was not entertaining TL’s attitude and chose to ignore him. 

TL didn’t like that. 
Not one bit. 

He continued to pester the man, and finally when TL realized the guy wasn’t biting, TL said something that he was sure would get a rise. He said: 
“I’ll kill you man.” 

Did I say he chose the worst seat possible? 
I meant the worst bus possible. 
Why?
Cause I was on it.
“WHAT THE FUCK DID YOU JUST SAY TO HIM? LISTEN TO ME, ARE YOU LISTENING? YOU DON’T TREAT PEOPLE LIKE THAT! DO YOU UNDERSTAND ME? THAT IS NOT HOW THIS WORLD WORKS!” 
That’s what I opened with. 
I lost it on TL. 
LOST IT
  1. I’m loud
  2. I don’t tolerate bully’s
  3. You don’t piss off a bi polar italian women and walk away, forgetting that you did
There was not a single soul on that bus who was expecting anybody to stand up to TL, not even TL. I didn’t call him any names, I didn’t threaten him or insult him in anyway. I just gave him a lesson on how the world needs to work if we all want to survive it. 

Obviously I gave this lesson at the top of my lungs, standing up over him, while his sorry punk ass didn’t know what hit it. 

He left that bus not only with his tail between his legs but with a better outlook on how to treat people. I know this because he apologized to me and tried to explain himself in the mousiest voice I’ve ever heard. He even called me ma’am! After that, it was the quietest bus in all of Toronto. 

As we arrived at the station, only one lady came up to me and whispered “good for you.” It was sweet but I don’t need pats on the back to know I’ve done the right thing, I am fully aware. I am also fully aware I could have put myself in serious danger, but I sure as shit wasn’t going to allow the sheep to claim another one right in front of my eyes. He was so young. For his sake, I hope he kicked the TL image and saw the bigger picture.


As hard as the sheep try, even the ones that try the hardest, they will never be able to change the fact, that we are all big fat nobody’s to somebody. You can spend your entire life belittling people, manipulating people and cut-throating your way to the top of The Richest Most Successful Respected Popular Person list, but to me... your just the douche who’s spending way too much time yelling at the barista and needs to spend more time getting the fuck out the way so I can get my tea. 

Somehow, somewhere in that person’s life, they got it twisted. You can tell. Nobody wants to be mean. The cuts and bruises of our lives end up mind fucking us. They detour us into chapters of our lives where we position ourselves with the wrong people or the wrong backdrops. Thus the birth of a shitty attitude. (e.g. condescending coffee douche) 

Things get hard, dealing with “hard” is a pain in the ass, and following is easy, so I can see how people end up sheep. It’s just a matter of stopping the cycle of taking things out on each other, but it’s hard... when easy is soooooo easy. 


Somebody told me once, that the reason I get so stressed out with people and their behaviours, is because I think the world’s going to change. 

I do and it will.

Just cause we fucked a few things up and some of us are at each others throats, doesn’t mean no one is ever going to come along and help fix it. 

Come on planet, give evolution a little more credit then that! 

We can hate each other and spend our entire lives un-happy, that’s no sweat of the worlds back. We are the one’s with the expiry date. Earth has got its whole life to wait. 

You want to chase Approval, be my guest, but I can assure you you're glass is half empty. 

Half is not full.
And full is better. 
And better is best.
And best is fulfilling so why not fill’er up? 

I’m not talking about choosing lime green when everyone else chooses red. I’m talking about representing yourself, in your life, the way you would have done it, if someone put a gun to your head and said: 

“do it your way, or else.” 

If you’re conscious of your submissive ways, then there’s hope for you yet. The sheep might know what’s hip and happening, but the rest of us can spot a knock off. Real and fake are pretty easy to distinguish. If you’re not real... knock it off. 

The greatest compliment I have ever received came from my older sister, on the day of her wedding. When thanking me in her speech, she said: 

“you carry your charisma as if no one is watching and I love that about you.” 

It’s not an overnight thing to get to my level of I Don’t Give A Fuck, but in time, if you stop trying so hard and hug it out with all the bullshit in your life, or at least make plans to do so, and for the sake of your sanity LAUGH (you gotta laugh), you’ll get there. One mistake at a time. 

Trust me. 
Might I remind you who you’re talking to and where you are?

www.oddchickout.blogspot.ca

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