Neptune's Wrath

Walmart? No Thank You!

Since I am taking 6 classes this semester my life has been sightly hectic.  I am finding all of my time is eaten up by homework.  So I thought that hey, I may as well throw up a couple of papers that I have written for my English class.  They were both A+ papers (that’s just how I roll) and maybe you will find them sad, interesting, amusing or shocking.  So…. for your consideration here’s the first:

At the mere suggestion of stepping foot inside a Walmart, my gorge rises.  I shudder convulsively at the thought.  The idea truly does fill me with that much revulsion.  Where shall I begin?  Let me see… I can think of a few reasons why I am so sick at the thought of going to a Walmart.  Walmart attracts a clientele unique in their own right; they are not the type of crowd I choose to rub elbows with – they are prone to shoplifting and on occasion tend toward committing more violent crimes.  Crimes of moral turpitude, both big and small, are being committed on a regular basis at your friendly, local, neighborhood Walmart.

It must be the appeal of the low prices, the cheesy smiley faces and the warehouse style, “one-stop gets it all,” mentality that is drawing in the crowd that Walmart typically attracts.  I mean, at what other store can one buy a rifle, beer, a TV, groceries and diapers simultaneously?  Did I forget to mention that this can all happen at three o’clock in the morning no less?  It is no great wonder that Walmart is attracting the meth addicts, the life-long food stamp collectors, the criminals who feel like stealing a few things in the middle of the night or even in the middle of the day if the mood so strikes them.  This is the clientele Walmart caters to.  A prime example of the type of person I would not want to shop alongside, would be Mickey Owings.  Per KRQE’s website, a car in the Walmart parking lot had been identified as stolen.  So it was under police surveillance.  Mickey was shopping with a woman in the Walmart and evidently was the perpetrator of said vehicle theft.  Upon exiting the store, Mickey got into the vehicle and proceeded to ram into the police vehicles, in an attempt to get away (Maestas).   In another article from KRQE, there is mention of a separate incident whereby a man fired shots at an Auto-Zone Manager, then fled into the nearest Walmart – gun in hand (“Police Arrest Gunman”).  Truly, I don’t have any desire to be in a Walmart when these types of incidents occur.  Funny how I just don’t hear of these things happening at a Macy’s, or even an Albertson’s!  Once those low-lifes have been drawn in like flies to honey, conditions are prime for thefts to occur.

Excuse me while I just take this TV…

A 38-year-old man has been sentenced to life in prison in a shoplifting case that ended in the death of a Walmart employee.  Although William Alan Kennedy was never charged with causing the death of Bruce Florence, a Tarrant County jury found the Fort Worth man guilty of aggravated robbery for knocking Florence, 56, down while trying to run out of the Westworth Village Walmart with a stolen TV worth $348 on June 11, 2010. (Boyd)

When is a new television worth the life of another human being?  Shoplifting is a real problem at the local Walmart stores.  It is eating up huge amounts of tax payer dollars and police resources just in calls for service alone.  I got to witness first-hand the amount of time it takes just to deal with a shoplifter at a Walmart.  I was on a police ride-along back in the fall of 2009.  I was riding with Officer Joshua Brown on the swing shift in the Northeast Heights.  His zone included the Walmart on Carlisle.  We received a call from the Asset Protection Department at that Walmart store, to please come and pick up a shoplifter that they had caught stealing about $200 worth of merchandise.  Because the shoplifter was a woman, once we arrived at the store, Officer Brown had to call for a female officer to come and perform the body search before he would be able to place the shoplifter into his cruiser.  Meanwhile, he began the report procedure of taking information from the Asset Protection gentlemen, watching the videos showing the shoplifter stealing the merchandise, interviewing her, etc.  When a female officer became available and arrived, she was able to quickly perform the search and then Officer Brown loaded the shoplifter into his cruiser.  Then we had to take her to the sub-station where she was placed in a holding room.  Then he had to book all of the evidence in, type up the official reports and make sure that all of the necessary paperwork was in order.  After all of these steps were done, she was once again loaded into his cruiser, and we then drove her downtown to the prisoner transport center.  She was booked in there and that process took about twenty minutes.  When all was said and done, the entire ordeal took approximately 3 hours of Officer Brown’s time.  That is a lot of time that would have been better spent patrolling the streets for violent offenders, drug dealers and the like.  Instead, countless hours of valuable police officers’ time are consumed on a daily basis, just in dealing with shoplifters at Walmarts around the city.  Even worse yet, are the really nasty offenses occurring at Walmart stores, that are sucking up all kinds of police resources.

Violent and/or predatory crimes are not something that anyone would wish to become a victim of.  Unfortunately, there is a high rate of incidence of these types of crimes being committed in, or on the premises of Walmart stores in our state.  Here are a couple of nightmarish incidents (that the mere thought of would awaken any mother in a cold sweat, in the middle of the night), which have sadly occurred in Walmart stores in NM.  This is according to

A 9-year-old girl was assaulted at a Walmart in northeast Albuquerque while at the store with her mother…. Shields said his daughter is still in shock despite the incident occurring 48 hours ago. He said that she went off with her younger brother to look at toys, and that’s when a man described as carrying a motorcycle helmet approached her. ‘When she’d look at a toy he’d come behind her, grab the toy and rub on her and pull her to him. He did it for a minute. When she freaked out, he exposed himself to her,’ said Shields.  (“9-Year-Old-Girl”)

About three weeks ago the following incident was reported on by The Rio Grande Sun’s website:

A Chimayó man was arrested Sunday evening for allegedly inappropriately touching three young girls at the Española Wal-Mart….The complaint about Cole was initially entered into Española 911 Center dispatch logs as a report of criminal sexual contact with a minor….The mother of the 10-year-old and 6-year-old victims said she hopes the incident can spread awareness…..The mother of the 11-year-old victim said her daughter was traumatized by the experience and may seek counseling.  (Mattei)

There was an incident that reported on that occurred at the Carlisle store here in Albuquerque on July 31st, 2011, whereby a woman had a man with a gun attempt to steal her purse from her in the parking lot (“Gunman Robs Woman”).  Another incident which I think is just shameful, involved a man stealing from a team of youngsters doing a fundraiser outside a local Walmart trying to raise funds for their football league.  That was reported on by  I could go on, but I think I have painted a clear enough picture already.  The bottom line is that Walmart stores are not a safe and friendly environment to go shopping in.

Sure crime happens all over the place, all of the time.  Other stores have their fair share of shoplifting, creeps, criminals, etc.  It’s a choice that I have made personally to not shop at any of those stores for the most part.  It truly does appear though, that Walmart in particular is a magnet for crime.  One could imagine that perhaps one of Walmart’s main competitors (Target) may suffer a similar amount of crime. As a matter of fact, Det. K**** at APD pulled statistics for me; the Walmart on Carlisle had exactly 955 calls for police service from 27 Sept., 2010 – 27 Sept., 2011.  The Target on Montgomery had 102 calls during the exact same date range.  The statistics say it all.  If I know that my odds of getting mugged are going to increase exponentially if I take a stroll down Central, say around 1:00am on a Saturday vs. taking a stroll in the open space of the foothills at 10:00am on a Sunday – shouldn’t I just opt not to stroll down Central?  So with the same concept in mind, I just don’t shop at Walmart.

Maybe if Walmart were to start spending some of their vast billions of dollars on an armed security force (so they stop leeching off our police departments), change their store hours to no longer be open 24 hours, stop catering to the welfare/criminal crowd… nah, never mind.  I still wouldn’t shop there, even if they were to change all of those things.  In the words of the late Sam Walton, “Each Wal-Mart store should reflect the values of its customers and support the vision they hold for their community.”  Am I the only one who gets the irony of that statement?

 Works Cited

Boyd, Deanna. “Fort Worth Man Sentenced to Life in Walmart Shoplifting Case.” Star-Telegram, 15 Sept. 2011. Web. 22 Sept. 2011.

“Gunman Robs Woman in Store Parking Lot: Crime Stoppers Crime of the Week.” LIN Television Corporation, 22 Sept. 2011. Web. 25 Sept. 2011.

K*****, R*** A. “Re: Calls for Service to Police.” Message to M*** D. C********. 27 Sept. 2011. E-mail.

Maestas, Tim. “Suspect Shot in Undercover Bust Dies.” LIN Television Corporation, 30 Mar. 2010. Web. 25 Sept. 2011.

“Man Accused of Stealing Football Team’s Donations.” Hearst Television Inc., 7 Sept. 2011. Web. 22 Sept. 2011.

Mattei, Lou. ”Man Arrested for Touching Girls: Parents Report Man for Inappropriate Contact with Girls Ages 6 to 11 at Wal-Mart; Child Porn Investigation Pending.” The Rio Grande Sun, 8 Sept. 2011. Web. 25 Sept. 2011.

“9-Year-Old-Girl Assaulted While in Walmart: Girl Assaulted at Walmart in Northeast Albuquerque.” Hearst Television Inc., 22 Jan. 2010. Web. 25 Sept. 2011.

“Police Arrest Gunman at NM Walmart.” LIN Television Corporation, 28 Aug. 2011. Web. 22 Sept. 2011.


Trauma = Shattered Rose-Colored Glasses

I am reading a book before I go to sleep at night currently.  It is called “Predators:  Pedophiles, Rapists and Other Sex Offenders – Who They Are, How They Operate and How We Can Protect Our Children” by Dr. Anna C. Salter.  Yes I know, strange choice for pleasure reading, but that’s how I roll.

This book rocked my world a few nights ago.  There is a chapter in it called “Rose-Colored Glasses and Trauma.”  In this chapter, Dr. Salter goes into very detailed explanations of how it is that once a person, whether child or adult, has suffered a traumatic event – their entire world view will be forever altered.  Most people view the world with a healthy dose of optimism.  They see negative things as possibilities that can occur to others, but not to them.  Survivors of trauma EXPECT those bad things to continually occur to them for the rest of their lives.

Needless to say this rocked my world.  It was a massive revelation for me.  I have always know that I am a complete pessimist.  I always figured I just get it from my mom.  She always worries and frets that the worst is going to come too.  Well my mom was raped by her father from the age of 3 – 16 until she ran away from home with my dad.  Anyone who has read this blog before knows that I too, have been through the wringer.

So it’s no real wonder that I broke, lost or refuse to wear those rose-colored glasses that the majority of society puts on every day.  Yes, I AM different in how I view the world.  Yes, I AM wired differently – I wasn’t born this way, I was re-wired.  I am always seeking logical explanations for why I am the way I am now.  I am acutely aware of the fact that I am not within the “norm” compared to the rest of society, in the way that my mind works and how I think.  It is not very often that I can actually come across an answer to some of my questions, so this was quite exciting for me to find.

I urge some of you other ladies – you know who you are – to go to the library and check out this book.  Read it.  Maybe not the whole book because it may be a bit too intense for some of you in some parts – DO read the chapter I mentioned though!

So sure, some people think I am totally nuts for carrying a gun (legally – I have a CCP) with me at all times and yes, I tuck a knife into my bra and keep one in my waistband and another in my purse, but I feel a little more secure that way.  So when the next boogeyman DOES come along – and it only is a matter of time in my book – I will be prepared.

You let me know how those rose-colored glasses work out for ya.

What I Need To Say Is… (Warning, MATURE content)

Ok so the name of my blog is Neptune’s WRATH for fuck sake.  I need to stop crying and get angry.  This is supposed to be the one place where I am allowed to get rip-roaring furious.

This is for the people who blow me off, chose to walk out of my life, decide that I am too damaged to be friends with – FUCK YOU, YOU FUCKING ASSHOLES!

It is NOT my fault I am so utterly dysfunctional and at times totally socially inept.  Excuse me if sometimes I get sloppy drunk – you are not fucking perfect either.  Who gives a shit if I sometimes say weird shit?  Do I really embarrass you that much?  Fuck you, you should be ashamed of yourself.  Take a page out of my book, try to be a little more accepting of people and recognize that life is not always such a walk in the goddamn park for all of us.  Not everyone grew up with that white picket fence and money coming out their asses.  Not everyone is going to sit in church on Sunday fucking morning worshiping YOUR God.  Yes I swear like a sailor.  Sure I tell dirty jokes.  But you laugh at them.  So fuck you.  Who is ALWAYS there when you need them?  Who bakes you treats for the fucking hell of it?  Who invites you over for fun?  Who watches your children for FREE all the time?  Who always cleans up at your house after the dinner party?

To the ones who meet me a few times and then decide I am not even worth acknowledging in public – KISS MY FUCKING ASS!  Thanks for forgetting my name.  It’s not that fucking hard to remember.

You are missing the chance to be friends with one of the strangest, most generous, kind people you could ever hope to meet.

To the ones who act as though they really want to be friends, ask for my number, make plans and then blow me off over and over and over – STOP WASTING MY TIME.  YOU FAKE, SUPERFICIAL COCKBITERS CAN ALL GO TO HELL.

Wow.  That actually felt good.



If only we could somehow stamp ourselves to warn others against our inner contents.  Like a package from UPS or Fed-Ex or something.

I have tried many times to forewarn people that I am starting new friendships with that I am not the normal person I appear to be on the outside.  I am truly fucked up, broken and damaged goods.  Somehow they just never seem to get it.  Then time and again, as they get to know me, open up the package so to speak and see that the contents inside are smashed to pieces, they try to “return to sender” or just throw me out.  Rarely I will encounter someone who will make an attempt at gluing all of the tiny broken pieces back together.  Those are the few that recognize that I could be of some value to them if only they could restore me a bit.

I am so lonely.  Every time I am returned to sender, every time I am thrown out and subsequently scavenged by the next person to come along, there are always a few more pieces that get further broken or lost along the way.  I feel as though I have been losing bits and pieces of myself with every person that leaves my life for the last couple of decades.  Eventually there won’t be any more pieces.  Then what?  The older I get, the less inclined I am to let people even open up the box to see what is inside.  On occasion though, I will throw open the lid myself – straight out of the gate – just to see what sort of reaction I get.  Saves me a whole lot of time and heartache, I just have to deal with the initial immediate rejection.

Usually the current grouping of people in my life who I refer to as my “friends” are the ones who either have not opened the box yet or slammed the lid back on and are pretending they never saw the broken bits inside.

The constant ebb and flow of people in and out of my life really hurts me.  I form attachments so quickly (too quickly).  I love fiercely.  I am constantly seeking out a reciprocation from other humans.  I don’t find it though.  It is as fruitless as a baby trying to nurse at the teat of his father.  There will never be milk, no matter how badly that baby needs it.

I just wish I had an off switch for my emotions and feelings.  Sometimes I envy psychopaths – they haven’t a care or concern in the world it seems.  I am the exact opposite.  I have far too much care and concern and it is awful.  I am tired of life always feeling like a fucking tragedy.

I do not know if I was just born wired this way or if it is because of what I endured for five years.  I don’t know if I will ever have that answer.

Just Can’t Forgive

Some things I just can’t forgive.

Some things I never get over.

Maybe it’s because I am a “bare my soul to the world” kind of girl.

Maybe it’s because without trust there is nothing.

If you do not trust the earth to spin – how can you keep living on it?

I really cannot forgive dishonesty.

I hate liars.

Deception is one of the most evil things in the world if you ask me.

Totally Lacking a Thick Skin

One would think, after all that I have suffered and survived, that I would have a very thick skin – albeit one covered in scars.  Not so much.  It would have been nice – to get a strong, diamond plated, hell even a nickel plated skin out of all of my ordeals – but no, I have a rice paper thin skin.

I am too sensitive for my own good.  You can break my heart with a glance.  If someone gives me a funny look, a frown, or God-forbid a criticism – I am crushed.

I put on this front for the world – I am tough, I am fierce, catty, witty, bitchy, not to be fucked with… yeah it’s all just a front.  Because secretly I am running to the bathroom with tears welling up in my eyes.  I am sobbing on the couch with my husband holding me at night.  I am crying in the shower.

I am hurt by every little thing the people of this harsh world cast my way.  Any grade less than an A in school is catastrophic for me.  A quizzical look from my son’s teacher gives me great pause.  An ignored text message is a hideous slight.  It all means the same thing to me.  You hate me.  I suck.  I am not worthy.

Right now I am going through a crisis or sorts with a couple of people who about a month ago I would have told you I thought were going to be in my life for the rest of my life.  I thought they were some of my best friends.  Now I am getting the cold shoulder at every turn.  I am being shunned, slighted and blown off at every opportunity.  It has escalated the most in the past week when I actually need them more than ever because my son has a broken arm and their kids are some of his best friends (the kids are twins and they used to joke that my son was their triplet).  I don’t understand why they are pulling away.  I cannot help but blame it on myself.  I just don’t know where I went wrong.  I could really use that thick skin right about now.

My experiences in my teen years left me with a lot of character traits – some of which I am not so fond of.  I am cynical, abrasive, opinionated, outspoken, stubborn and pessimistic.  On the flip side though, I am the most loyal, generous, kind, loving and caring friend you could ever ask for.  I strive to be the BEST friend you could ask for.  For pretty much EVERY friend I have!  You know what though?  I don’t think that anyone out there actually calls me their best friend.  That hurts me a lot.  Probably because I have lived such a transient life… never been in a person’s life long enough to earn the title I suppose.  I have had several people who have earned that title throughout my life though.  I have always made a point of letting them know how much they mean to me.  Because I know that it would mean the world to me if I could hear it from just one person (other that my beloved husband – my number one best friend) that I am their best friend.

This is a pretty rambling post, I just have a lot on my mind and I am pretty emotional right now.  I think I might go down a bottle of red wine and attempt to tackle my Biology homework now.

I CAN be Strong When Necessary

My darling baby – he’s a 65lb 7 year old boy now, not so much a baby any more I suppose… fell off he monkey bars at a park on Tuesday afternoon and broke both bones in his forearm completely in half. Ouch.

I kept my shit together. All night long. In speaking to the firemen who showed up to perform the necessary first aid and splinting, all the way to sitting there at my boy’s side while the Ortho set his bones back in place. I was at his side through the many sets of x-rays. I soothed him when they put him under for the procedure. I awakened him gently so they could re-examine him in order to discharge him. I calmly discussed risks and side effects of various anesthesia with the Head of Pediatrics in the ER. I did not crack. I held it together. Even when my son told me he did not want to die.

My husband told me he’s very proud of me.

I really can keep my shit together when it’s necessary.

Starvation as Punishment

Imagine you are in a building that is 12 stories tall.  Imagine that the floor that you eat on is the 6th floor.  Now imagine that you are given at times only 5 minutes to get to the 6th floor from wherever you currently are, go through a buffet line, eat your food and return to the floor you are assigned to in order to respond to your named called out at an attendance roll call.

You might just say “FUCK IT” and skip trying to eat right?  More often than not, you aren’t even going to make it down to or up to the 6th floor in the allotted time and then to the designated floor for attendance within 5 minutes, never mind eating a meal somewhere in between, so why try?  It is a lose – lose scenario.  Sometimes we were generously given 15 minutes for this process.  Much better than 5.  Time to get in a quick smoke after the meal in that case.

There was about a full year where my section of the cult was only allowed to eat beans and rice.  Not cooked in any yummy fashion either.  Just plain – bland, beans and rice.  I took to stealing food.  I got in a shit-ton of trouble for that.  I had been such a good kid before that too.  Amazing what level you will stoop to in order to survive.

I have had major stomach problems ever since all of this.  I guess it’s related.  I mean, one can only assume.  I have digestion problems.  I puke at the drop of a hat.  I can go for days without eating and feel just fine.  I don’t get normal hunger signals and often will forget to eat.  If I consume more than 1200 calories on a regular daily basis I immediately gain weight.  I think my metabolism is pretty screwed up.  I have tried to reset it.  I have tried for years to regulate things.  If I eat the “normal” amount of calories for someone of my age, activity level and size – wow do I balloon up and FAST too!

I am sure that this all ties into my suicide attempt as well.  I mean I did try to starve myself to death.  But sheesh, I think after the several years of the aforementioned starvation punishment, my body was already well accustomed to not eating much on a regular basis so it’s probably part of the reason why my attempt failed.

You know what is a real doozy?  When you combine sleep deprivation and starvation.  That will really fuck with you.  72 hours with no sleep + non-stop hard physical labor + 1 partially rotted apple +1 tablespoon of peanut butter + 1 stale taco shell = 105 degree fever and delirium with some really nutty hallucinations that lasted for a few days.  I think I was 16 or 17 at the time.  I thought I was going to die.  I wished I would die.  Turns out, I am not so easy to kill off.

Sometimes it all seems so surreal to me.  Like it is not even my life I am writing about.  Did this shit really happen to me?  Why am I such a pussy now when it comes to such tiny little life problems?  If I could survive that crap, why do I bitch out at the slightest mishap in my current life?  Just another thing I hate about myself.

Why the hell am I still talking?

I have this really bad habit.  I blather on long past the point that I knew I should have stopped.  It’s verbal diarrhea.  That habit combined with a knack for saying the wrong thing at the wrong time… social suicide.

I embarrass myself over and over doing this – yet I cannot stop myself.  Obviously this is something that is exacerbated by the consumption of alcohol, but far more often than not, I am fully capable of embarrassing myself while stone cold sober.  I am tempted to become a social recluse.  The problem with that is the fact that I crave the company of others.  So the simple solution would be to be around others and simply keep my mouth shut.  Can’t seem to  do that.  Do you see my conundrum?

It’s like I have all of these idiotic ideas and opinions that I think the world needs to hear.  Or should hear.  Then always mi-way through I realize that I am making a total ass out of myself yet again.  It’s too late to just stop – or is it?  Well really maybe I can save myself if I just explain myself a little better, I can clarify my thoughts a bit more for this person or these people… there I go again… off an running and BOOM.  It’s done.  Much to my chagrin.

It’s a miracle I don’t alienate everyone in my life.  I walk around every day regretting things that come out of my mouth all of the time.  I am constantly replaying conversations in my head. Thinking, “oh God, did I really say that to that person?  Shit, they must think I am a total asshole.” or “Crap, she is never going to want to speak to me again after what I just told her.”

So yeah, basically I would really do well to get a long-term case of laryngitis or something.


It’s MY Fault of Course

Last night I went with my hubby and son to a ball game.  It was right around dinner time so I asked my husband whether he’d like us to hit a drive-thru on the way, or grab concessions at the stadium.  He opted for concessions.

We arrive at the ball park and make our way toward our seating section.  He starts to eyeball the various food carts and concession stands.  He notices that it looks like we are going to be paying through the nose for dinner.  I stop and ask a woman eating a hotdog what she paid for it.  When she shrugs and tells me, “uh I dunno, like 6 bucks” I knew we were in for it.  A hot dog for $6?!?!?!  Lips and assholes slapped into a bun with some mustard for SIX DOLLARS????

We get to our seats (turned out not to be our seats – very confusing way of labeling the sections) and look around the entire stadium at the food options.  We spot a stand for a local pizza joint we enjoy and that is usually really fairly priced.  We commence the five mile hike around the stadium to get there, buy our dinner (got it for only $15.50 thank god) and get back to our (wrong) seats.

We start eating.  My husband remarks that there is a noticeable shortage of meat and a HUGE amount of shredded lettuce in what is supposed to be a roast beef sandwich.  I turn to him and apologize to him for deciding to eat at the ballpark and tell him we should have opted for a drive-thru.  At this point I am absolutely certain that this is all MY fault.  Without a doubt.  He looks at me and says, “there you go blaming yourself again, I was the one who said we should eat HERE – not you.”

Of course I am sure it’s my fault we wound up in the wrong seating section too.  Not because they have a very vague and unclear labeling system.  I’m too stupid to interpret what they are trying to indicate.  Have I told you before how stupid I am?  I have a 4.0 GPA but I am pretty convinced that I am a total idiot.

Welcome to my world.