Problem, Schmoblem

Some guy was ranting and raving to me in multiple text messages the other day.

At least he claimed he was a guy.  I wasn’t exactly going to cash in that claim ticket.  Because I wasn’t as sure about it as he was.

Why wasn’t I so sure?

Because.

He was a whiner.

And not being from Joyzee, like moi, he did not exactly have official whine bragging rights.

And all the whining was.  Because.  He had a problem.

I offered him solutions and a lovely mantra that helps me when I have problems: “Look for Big Problems. They Mask Huge Opportunities.” Ooh! I get so excited by that one. Wow the opportunities are immense. It really helps me get through things.

But that wasn’t good enough. He had no money.  And his no money bought him a rotten car.

Ah! You have a rotten car now and can get to a rotten job. Whereas before you had no car and no job…. Things are looking up for you, dude!

But that had him spewing more at me. The universe was against him.  He was angry.  He was a spiritual guy, and did not deserve this treatment by the Universe. How dare the Universe do this to him.

I told him not to take it personally, because everybody has STUFF going on with them right now. He wasn’t the only one being affected by the economy.  And the Universe.   So I tried a little hypno-texting on him. Asked him to breathe.  Asked him to relax.  Asked him to be patient and that a solution would arrive.

No.  He refused to breathe.  And got angrier.

At me. This time. It appeared to be my fault.

Why?  Because I am Woman.  Hear me raw.

He whined.  (Wait! He’s not from Joyzee I said!)  “Women have it better than men.  They are always rescued by men.  Men have to stand on their own two feet and take care of themselves.  Nobody rescues men.”  Wah.  Call him a wambulence!

Oops.  He whined to the wrong person.

I am not exactly one of those types wailing out, “C’mon baby, and rescue me!”

Well, maybe if I hear Willie Bobo and his band singing it, then I just can’t help belting it out…  Whoa!  Hold me back.  Here I go!  Wait.  No.  Really.  Hold me back.

But there are just so many single moms out there struggling to get by.  I don’t see Prince Char-mink swooping in and buying them Fur-rah-reezes.  What did he want me to do? Snap my fingers and turn him into a woman?  Or even better give him his own two feet to stand upon so he can take care of himself and be a man?

So let me backtrack a little for a little back story.

This “guy” is supposedly a life coach and above all material things.  He describes himself as a person who bases his life on soulful, rather than material living.  But because he keeps getting kicked in the booty, and not actually earning some booty,  I think he’s living more sole-fully (as in sole of shoe to his keister) than ethereally.

Maybe if he would actually get a real job thingy that would help.  Or even more profound.  Maybe.  If he tried being an adult and taking responsibility for his own actions.  That would be major big on the helpness factor.

Anyway.

About a year ago, this “guy” stated to me that everyone knew how “powerful” I was.  (Who are these people I wonder?)  He knew that I could help him.  (Yep.  That’s me.  With Salvation Army tattooed on my forehead.)  For some reason, he seemed to think that I have super powers.  (I guess my cape gave it away.)  And that they will rub off on him.  (Kinda like garlic on toast.  Or.  Dog hair on black pants.)

In case you didn’t know these facts about me that I don’t know either:

1.  I melt butter with my eyes.  And a little help from the stove top.

2.  I am stronger than STRONG! With ease and grace I toss and juggle jumbo jets and cargo trains into the air as if they were toys.  Wait.  Those were toys.  Shhh!  Don’t tell him I was using a green screen.

3.  I walk through doors and walls.  Providing there is an open door for me to walk through.

4.  I have powers of invisibility.  Especially when I am in a crowd of really tall people.

5.  I can fly.  When I use my green screen.

6.  I can shape shift.  Because I do yoga.  And am almost a pretzel.

7.  I can breathe.  Therefore I am.

Yeah.  That’s me.  Vick the Slick.  World Savior! Watch me save myself from Whine poisoning as I delete message and contact information from cell phone.  Bye Bye Sole Man!  May the Universe give you what you deserve.

Funning my Way out of the Box, one problem at a time!

breathing · hypnosis · problem solving · Whiners

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