Saturday, February 28, 2015

Disgusting: Wasting Food

Hey Dad! What's up?

I have something so funny to share with you. Remember how much Mom hated when people wasted food? Even a spoonful of food not eaten would throw her into a tizzy! Good times, huh? So glad I don't talk to her anymore. I bet you are, too.

Anyway, I wasn't able to finish my Bear Claw ice cream treat today. You see, I live in a really trashy studio apartment and the freezer is so weak and old that it can't even freeze ice cream. My landlord insisted that it could freeze ice cream but I later learned that she was quite full of crap. Either she had never lived in a studio apartment before or she was desperate to get me to rent this place. Either way, I couldn't finish the carton of Bear Claw. So, what's going to happen now? Where is it going to go?

The trash, that's where. Maybe a homeless person will find it and indulge. Whatever happens to the Bear Claw does not interest me. I'm only interested in the fact that I am wasting it and wasting a lot of it, too. And, I'm proudly wasting it.

My mom would be so livid if she was here to see what I was doing. I remember her huge tangents she would go on about how awful it was to waste food.

One time Tim made this horrible steak. The meat was all tough and fatty and gristly. So, like anyone with normally functioning taste buds, I didn't want to finish it and refused to do so.

"Ashlee, you are so wasteful," my mom began harping immediately once she saw that there was more than half a steak uneaten on my plate.

"There are so many hungry people in the world that would love to eat the supper that you are eating but they can't because they are too poor."

"Why don't you give it to them then?" I wanted to say but thought better of it. I was only eight or nine then and pissing Mom off wasn't quite as entertaining as it was when I got older and my hatred for her continued to grow steadily.

"Eat!" she barked.

So I began to stuff as much of it in my cheeks as I could and pretended like I was swallowing it. When she wasn't looking, though, satisfied that she had gotten me to eat the disgusting heap on my plate, I whispered "Jethro."

My black and white border collie and lab mix knew that it was sneaky time. He quietly came over to me and ducked underneath the table. I quickly picked up all the remaining steak on my plate and threw it at him on the floor. Within a few seconds it was gone.

Jethro started to leave, thinking that I had given him everything, but I wasn't finished with him yet. There was still the disgusting slop in my mouth that we still had to make disappear and I was positively, most definitely, determined not to swallow it.

So I dug the food out of my mouth and gave it all to him. Yeah, I know, it's gross but dogs eat worse things than food from people's mouths. I mean, as pups they eat everything that their moms barf for them so this was like puppyhood for Jethro.

He ate it all and I sat back and smiled. Jethro gave a sigh of contentment and walked slowly back to his bed and lay down.

"Okay Mom," I called to her.

"I finished everything. Can I be excused?"

She came over to inspect my plate and make sure there wasn't anything stashed away in my cheeks to be flushed down the toilet later whenever I found an opportunity to spit it out in the toilet.

"Good girl," she told me, ruffling my hair in the way she knew I hated. It send goosebumps up and down my body and the hairs on my neck stood up as hatred and anger billowed inside of me.

"Was it really that hard to finish your dinner?" she taunted me.

"Nope, not hard at all," I told her, finding it very difficult to hide my smile from her as the words came out of my mouth.

To be honest Dad, I really don't have a clue why Mom was so uptight about wasting food. I mean, everybody wastes food sometimes, even she does I'm sure. And, could me wasting disgusting, gristly meat be as bad as her sleeping around on her husband and abusing her very own flesh and blood daughter?

Here's what I think. She didn't really give a rip about wasting food and all the hungry people in third world countries. Nope, that wasn't on her top worry list at all. I think that she just wanted an excuse for something to nit pick at me with and, since I wasn't willing to finish my meal, that seemed just right to fulfill her naggy desire and take it out on me.

I love you Dad. I can't wait for the show. I'm so excited! Hey, I forgot to tell you, my show is going to be broadcasted on YouTube so that whoever misses the show can view it at their own convenience and the rest of the world who don't follow my blog can watch it if they stumble on it while surfing YouTube and can maybe find that they can relate a lot to my experiences I had growing up with a crazy mother, not to mention, a crazy family in general. I feel, and I'm sure that you would agree, that my mother had her fair share of getting to express her opinions and loudly I must add. So, now it's my turn.

I love you Dad. I'll write more later.

Friday, February 27, 2015

Disgusting: Eating Bear Claw Ice Cream out of the Carton in Bed

Dear Dad,

There are so many things about me that disgust my mother so it is very difficult to find a good place to start in this project with the pictures and stories. The one that comes to mind the most right now is about eating ice cream right out of the carton.

Mom always thought that people should scoop the ice cream out from the carton into a bowl before totally pigging out on it. So, as you can imagine, when my mom would see me eating ice cream out of the carton, she would flip out.

"Such class," she would say, her voice soaked with sarcasm.

"I didn't raise you to eat like that. Go grab a plate right now."

One time she caught me eating Bear Claw ice cream right out of the carton. She totally lost it!

"Oh, so classy of you to eat right out of the carton like that. You look just like a dog eating out of the carton like that! Go grab a plate right now and clean all the goopy melted ice cream off of the sides of the carton. You're making such a mess!"

Whenever I was home alone, I'd eat out of the carton. It wasn't all for spite, though it was mostly out of spite because I knew just how much it upset my mother. I also did it because I was lazy. I mean, what's the point of dirtying up a bowl and then having to wash it after you're done eating when you can simply take the carton out of the freezer and eat right out of it? One less thing to wash once you're done and you can eat as much as you want out of the carton without having to go back once the bowl was empty to get more. Whenever I was forced to eat from the bowl, I always thought to myself when I would go back for second helpings "All this time I'm spending scooping more ice cream into this bowl I could be eating ice cream." Plus, it's easier to eat out of the carton than scooping ice cream into a bowl. It's hard to aim the ice cream right at the bowl when you can't really see the bowl all that well. You'd think my mom would understand but... NO! It was her way or the highway.

There was a night in particular when I had polished off the rest of the Bear Claw. My mom was out for the night and I had the whole house to myself so, of course, I ate right of the carton. Not only was I eating out of the carton, I was also eating the ice cream on her fancy leather couch, not at the table like I was supposed to.

When I finished all the ice cream, I got up and headed for the stairs leading down to the kitchen and other parts of the house. Somehow, the carton slipped out of my hand and tumbled down the steps, which were blanketed in fancy schmancy white carpeting. The lid of the carton wasn't on it so, of course the chocolatey melted leftovers splattered out of the carton.

"Shit!" I yelled. I knew I would be in deep shit.

I hurried down the stairs after it, hoping to pick it up off the carpet before more chocolate could leak out of it. But suddenly, my right socked foot slid right inside of the carton. Immediately I could feel the cold, wet, melted ice cream through my sock.

"Dammit!" I hollered. This was getting from bad to worse very quickly.

I didn't know what to do. I sat down on the step, took my sock off, and groaned when chocolate and caramel goo begin dripping from the sock onto the white carpet.

It took a long time to clean it all off and, even as I scrubbed away, I knew that there were major stains in the carpet and probable places that I had failed to clean entirely because I couldn't see all the spots of chocolate. I did feel a teensy bit satisfied about the accident, though I knew there would be consequences.

The only thing left to do was confess. I was spared the confession when my mom came home that night. She had a guy that was head over heels in love with her that night and she was too distracted by him to notice the destruction of her perfect carpet.

The next day, she did notice, though, and, boy was she mad.

Suddenly, while I was doing my homework, I heard a high-pitched gasp escape her at the bottom of the staircase.

"Ashlee, what the hell happened here?" she demanded.

"There's chocolate EVERYWHERE!"

"I accidentally spilled the carton of ice cream when I was going downstairs," I confessed.

"It's all over the place!" she repeats, hysteria prominent in her voice.

"It even got on the bottom part of the railing!"

"Sorry," I said, my stomach clenching into knots of fear. My mother, as you know, never hesitated to hit me whenever she "saw it fit" as she often told me.

"You ate from the carton!"

It was not a question but an accusatory statement.

"Yes," I admitted.

"The ice cream was almost gone anyway so I thought that I'd save a dish from getting soiled and eat from the carton."

"How many times have I told you to USE A PLATE?!!!!! Now the carpet's ruined!!! There is no way these stains are going to come out ASHLEE!"

When she was mad, she always put an extra emphasis on my name. To scare me more, I guess. Like that was really necessary. I was like putty in her iron fisted hands and she knew it. But once you get a little taste of power and control, you want more and more and more. My mother was power hungry, still is to this day I'm sure!

"I'm really sorry," I told her and I meant it, though not because I really felt sorry for her or her stupid carpet but more because I felt sorry for myself and for what might/would happen to me for this infraction. Felony is more like what she would call it.

But, lucky for me, she was more concerned about her precious carpet than about punishing me. She spend hours and hours trying in vain to scrub the mess away.

She didn't get me Bear Claw ice cream for months after that and I didn't ask for it. The incident didn't stop me from eating ice cream out of the carton, though. In fact, it made me want to do it more, despite the ever present fear of my mother that I told you so much about when you were here to listen. The anger inside of me and the hatred for her won over the fear, making me repeat the offense time and time again.

So now, Dad, I'm in my own house and I make my own rules. I'm eating Bear Claw right now on my bed. Just thought I'd add another little layer of disgust for my mother since I'm already making her squirm with revulsion. Too bad she can't slap and yell at me now. She's too far away for that! And maybe, just maybe, I'll spill some chocolate on my blanket. The same one that I stole from her bedroom when I moved away from her prison house.

Mmmmm, this ice cream is delicious. It tastes even better now that I'm eating it for a good cause. I'm sure you can guess what the good cause is, can't you Daddy?

Love Ashlee

Disgusting: Introduction

Dear Dad,

I have something so exciting to share with you! I'm working on an art project that is both very entertaining and healing for me and I'm really excited and want to tell you all about it!

The project is all about the things I did when I lived at home that disgusted my mom. Some of the things I did on purpose just to yank her chain and other times, it was unintentional. It was just something I did without thinking about it. To this day, I still do things that I know will disgust my mom even though she isn't here to see it because it makes me feel proud and empowered.

So, every day until Mother's Day, I'm going to have someone take pictures of me doing various things that used to disgust my mother when I lived at home and that will still disgust her today. Then, to go along with the pictures, I'm going to write little stories about my mom's reactions to each thing I would do that she was disgusted by and why I think she was disgusted by them. I'm going to tell you the stories in letters to you because it's the only way I can talk to you now. To make the show complete, I am going to create a slide show presentation for the audience to see and laugh about. I wonder if my mom will have the guts to come to my show!

Anyway, the show is taking place on Mother's Day. I think that is the most appropriate day to have it. I'm not sure if anyone will show up, but either way, the project is still worth doing because I know my mom will find out about it somehow and I know it will make her really mad. I'm doing the project more for my amusement rather than for the benefit of an audience so, if nobody shows up, that will still be fine with me. I'll still feel great about the project. But it would be a total bonus if people do come to my show! And I think that would make my mom even madder. She would be the center of attention on the screen and not in the way that she ants. Finally, after nineteen years of living with her and being forced into submission and silence while she got away with countless acts of abusing and humiliating me, it's finally my turn to speak at last. Breaking the silent lucidity that held me captive for almost two decades.

I really miss you Dad. I wish that you could come to the show. Perhaps you will come to my show in spirit. If you can come to my show in the spirit world, please come! You'll love it!

Love Ashlee

Thursday, February 12, 2015

Imaginary Paintings @ Caffe Vita Olympia opens tonight (2/12/15) at 5

HAIL SATAN!!!!!!!!!
My name is Ashlee Levcun, also known as the Blind Satanist. I am possessed by five demons. The paintings that you see were created by all five of them. Once the paintings were finished, the demons described them to me in great detail so that I could share them with you.
Nevaeh is a tiny demonic doll. She is so small that she can fit easily in your pocket, like a worry doll.
Mary Meyers is my other demonic doll. She is the size of a normal doll and she loves to invite an audience to watch all of her shows. She is a celebrity.
Chrissie is a beanie baby demon. She has wild, fly-away hair that is smooth to the touch. She loves to stir the pot and cause endless amounts of trouble.
Bryan is a tree and he is extremely lazy. He isn't totally content until everyone surrounding him is being equally lazy.
Smm Smm is a demon. He will blow fire at anyone who insults his artwork and he can shoot hot chocolate out of his ears like a fountain shoots water way up in the sky.
All of the demons that possess my soul of blackness would like you to venture forward and take a look at their divine works of art.