I'm working on it.

Suicidal thoughts legitimately plagued me for six years of my life, a long time ago. And it's a time I'm happy to mostly forget. 

Dark thoughts can leave scars. And my scars manifest themselves in bad habits, like always questioning myself and absorbing blame and responsibility for things that have nothing to do with me.

But like the saying goes, before I diagnose myself as being broken, let me ask for feedback from impartial parties.

I'm being "watched" by an anonymous person per my superior. Online activity specifically.

Social media is what I do professionally. So yeah, it's safe to say I'm going to be on Facebook most of the time. And even with all those hours logged, I average less than one post a day on my own wall. 

I don't consider myself an "expert" in anything. But I am an adult. I am a professional. I'm ethical. And I don't mean to brag, but I'm smarter than the average bimbo. Aside from the usual identity precautions, I have nothing to hide.

I am diligent about my work. I do it to the best of my ability. I own my mistakes and I never stop looking for ways to improve quality and efficiency. 

In return, I do have a few simple, reasonable expectations.

Treat me like the adult I am. Don't feed me a crock of corporate secrecy junk about watchers whose identity I'm not allowed to know. It ain't the fucking CIA. 

This isn't the first time an anonymous individual has targeted me in Redneckville. I must be a glutton for punishment because I keep going back for more. 

Who knew my cubicle life was so interesting to these 'watchers.'

Another thing I expect is to be corrected for MY OWN mistakes. Last time I checked, I can't control anyone else. But this 'watcher' maybe thinks I can?

So am I fucked up for being angry about the secrets and other assorted bullshittery? Or am I fucked up for refusing to silently tolerate it?

Or am I just fucked up?

I'll never be perfect. But for the sake of 'the watchers' I'm working on it. 

The man who found 'the beautiful ones' said:

“Our success in being human has so far derived from our honoring deviance more than tradition. Template changing always has gained a slight, though often tenuous, lead over template obeying. Now we must search diligently for those creative deviants from which, alone, will come the conceptualization of an evolutionary designing process. This can assure us an open-ended future toward whose realization we can participate.”

John B. Calhoun

Behavioral researcher, ecologist and ethologist

If you desire a blown mind, Google him.

Dear Velocity channel...

Hellooo there people from the TeeVee who will never read this, I would like to provide you with tips and suggestions for improving your products. Totally free of charge too. Think of the money you're saving on focus groups you are clearly not using anyway.

Now I'm just a fluffy bimbo with a fake law degree and a real license to Glam, but my credentials include being daughter of The Bob and wife of the Mr. Buffie. I do believe that qualifies me as a legitimate gearhead.

When giving someone less than positive feedback, you should begin with a compliment. So let's talk about what you're doing right. 

"Overhaulin'"

Perhaps I'm biased because I sense the same wizardry in Chip Foose that my dad and husband share.

This show has a wonderful premise, mischievous fun with 'the mark.' Shop 'drama' is limited to unexpected issues with the vehicle. Not trumped up soap opera theatrics between bearded apes in bowling shirts.

The end result never fails to bring a smile during the reveal. Good vibes, "Overhaulin'" brings them.

"Wheeler Dealers"

British accents. Moving on...

"What's My Car Worth?"

Informative. No petty fake bickering or tantrums. Interesting and unique cars and only a few annoying American style awful yodeling auctions along with proper, fun to watch, British style auctions. 

Not a bad list, eh?

Here are some shows you're almost getting right.

"Graveyard Carz"

Mopars are in the blood. And these cars in addition to Mark's knowledge, it's gold. But the constant in-fighting? Bitch, puhleeze. If I want to see a bunch of divas having spaztasms I'll watch "RuPaul's Drag Race." (Which I love, btw.) Sure, Mark can serve but queens shame him without even trying. Oh, and, THE SHOW DOESN'T NEED IT. Why put bad mojo in the air like that??? Stahp.

Assorted other information, how-to type shows are fine. Some are too in-your-face with the sponsored products but I understand you gotta keep the lights on. 

Good things you could be doing:

Show us films or documentaries about the people who have shaped the various automotive achievements or unique hobbiests and/or builders such as "Urban Outlaw" featuring Magnus Walker.

I realize you have a "Girls' Garage" show but it's boring and I couldn't make it through a single episode. Why not simply introduce more women into your existing lineup? What's wrong with throwing a touch more girlie appeal up in there? You can only stand to increase your advertiser base. You know I'm right. Huge untapped market, friends. The boat. You're missing it. 

Things you are doing flat ass WRONG:

"Texas Car Wars"

Where do I even begin with this hot mess? Ohkay, the narrator is all 'Dukes of Hazzard' (AKA Southern accent) and he should have gone totally Tommy Lee Jones (Texas accent). Then there's the headliner fabric in the Hobby Lobby bag. Omfg, what reputable shop would ever be or remain in business without utilizing professional wholesale suppliers of automotive upholstery? Like, hi, please tell me that isn't for real. All these shops have questionable business practices at best. Why can't you make a real version of this show? I'd watch it. Good shops are out there. Find them. 

"Barrett-Jackson"

I realize you didn't start this fire but you're letting it continue to burn so shame on you all the same. This unwatchable swill has obliterated the market and nearly destroyed the shade-tree hobby for everyone but the very wealthy. Not. Cool.  If you must continue with this absurdity, I insist you replace the auctioneers with Christopher Walken, Gilbert Gottfried and Jeremy Clarkson. 

I've also noticed your lineup includes no "Top Gear." There are 14 seasons of episodes and specials from which to choose. Show them, maybe? (And no, nobody wants American Shitty Top Gear so don't even think about it.)

Well, aside from designing my own line of custom vehicles for your shows to create, that's a good start for you.

When shall I expect to see the beginnings of Glambozation on Velocity?

And lastly:

You're welcome!!! 💋😸💖

I'm still here

If someone asked me in 1990 if I would see 2015 and I was forced to give an honest answer and not some diplomatic fib, I'd have said no.

No because I didn't think I'd survive the torment another four years. No because they might have pushed me into violent, criminal acts. No because of substances or recklessness generally. 

Against my own odds, it really is 2015. And I'm still here. 

Scarred, weak at times. But better off than I ever expected to be. Better off than maybe I deserve. 

2020, 2025, the honest answer, I think definitely maybe. Perhaps hopefully.

Directions are as much a mystery as they ever were. Sometimes my ego lets me have the delusion of steering my own ship. Reality is that seas change without warning and we are all very tiny organisms in a universe so vast, many refuse to fathom because the idea of it is too frightening. 

The universe doesn't scare me, though. 

If anything, its vastness is what gives me hope that maybe there is a meaning to this life.

Small words. Simple sentences. Easy to digest.

Come gather round the gas-fueled indoor fireplace and I will try to explain this as succinctly as possible. 

If you think you understand what it is like to walk a mile in anyone else's shoes, richer, poorer, a different gender, race, size... You. Have. No. Idea. 

While you are at it, just do this thing real quick. A Google search. You're already on the Internet, hello!

Look up, however you'd like, just a few things, three at the most, about the effects of poverty, violence and ignorance on ALL of society.

Yes, shocking, I know. Experienes different than our own may yet affect our own experiences. Can you imagine the concept?! (Ohkay, I'll stop being sarcastic.)

Really though. Could all the OLD, RICH, RELIGIOUS, WHITE MEN please shut the fuck up about how it is to be poor, black, gay, female or speak with an accent?! Honestly, just shut up. Not because you need to just shut up but because you need to LISTEN for a change. 

There. I'm done. That's all for today.

Stuck

I joke that I should rename this blog 'Where bad moods go to die.' And I should. And it is. 

Today will officially be over in a few hours. Tomorrow, a new one begins. All I can do is wake up in the morning, put my feet on the ground and stomp at the obstacles as hard as I can. Those that fall will fall. Those that don't, well, I stomped as hard as I could. 

The moment I thought my tool bitch days were over...

Wrong! So wrong. What was I even thinking?

Sure, I'm excited the old Dodge is running again. It makes Mr. Buffie happy and we share a love for horsepower. But seriously, I am ready to retire from Tool Bitch status for good. 

When dad was here, he and Mr. B were under the car, fixing (sort of) a transmission fluid leak. And I make the big dumb mistake of wandering into the garage. One 'hey, hand me a 7/16 shallow socket' turns into a sweaty, mosquito-infested two hours of 'I need a rubber mallet' and 'can you find that wrench I just had,' 'you need to hold the light here for a second (or ten minutes).'

And in spite of my insistence that Tool Bitch was done with their greasy grossness, my protests were ignored. Instead the two of them gang up on me, threatening to make me eat thank-you-drive-thru for dinner and trying to imply that working on a car that hasn't been driven in four years is somehow a favor to me. No, no. I need no favors. I have three other vehicles I can drive, thanks. 

I did eventually get a real dinner. But I smelled like old fuel and I wasn't too happy about it. Daddy's little gear head may like her internal combustion engines, but she's paid her dues being elbow-deep in cleaning solvent, with a wire brush, scrubbing gunk of all manner of sharp and awkward to hold objects when she could have been inside an air conditioned house happily playing Barbie with her Siamese cat. 

I guess I'm always going to be Tool Bitch. It's time to accept my station in life on that front. But can I get a goo-proof suit and an air-filtration mask, both in pink please? I think I've earned it by now.