Search Results for ‘disabled’
Neanderthal Boogie
Jessica Alba, Jessica Biel and I had just gotten into the hot tub. Jessica Alba thought it might be a good idea if we had a contest to see who the best kisser was. She leaned in to kiss me, I closed my eyes as we move closer and… BANG BANG BANG! I was jolted awake; it was 9:30 AM and that banging scared the shit out of me, but what was it? BANG BANG BANG again, someone at my door. Then I hear a key slipping in the keyhole and turning. Now I’m freaking out. “Hello James, it’s Paul from maintenance”. I’m no longer freaked out, Paul is a nice guy, and brings any notices from the management into my apartment, instead of just leaving it on the door. He has a woman with him, the new apartment manager. He informs me that on Friday the entire building is being fogged for bugs. “But I don’t have bugs” I told him smugly, obviously I just won this little encounter. Then the new manager stepped in; “yes, but if we fog every apartment except yours then all the bugs will just make their way in here.” Well played manager lady, well played. So I begin to ask some questions such as; how long will I have to be out of the apartment for? Will it affect my electronics? Can you hold off until the afternoon so that my attendant can get me in my chair and outside?
These seem like coherent, intelligent questions to me, but apparently not to manager lady. She asks me if I have a “social worker” she can talk to so that they can explain these things to me. It took everything I had not to spit in her face and call her a dirty fucking whore for that comment. I maintain my composure and explain to her that I will explain everything to my attendant and the apartment will be ready on Friday. They leave, I calmed down and read through the list I was given of things to do to prepare the apartment for fogging. The day progresses, my attendant has arrived, I’m calm everything is good. I have my daily shower, I’m in my bedroom, not dressed yet, hair still wet, fucking sexy as hell. My attendant is getting my clothes when BANG BANG BANG at the door again. What the fuck? My attendant goes to the door and answers. It’s Paul again. I don’t go out there because I’m naked but I hear everything. Manager lady has sent Paul to ask my attendant how to get in touch with my social worker, so that they can make sure I understand what’s going on. Are you fucking kidding me? I was fuming, I almost rolled out there butt ass naked to tell this guy what is up. My attendant attempts to explain that I am competent, and that there is no social worker, or anyone else. I handle my own affairs. So he says okay. I was furious for the rest of the day and into the night. If I had gone down there right then, I would probably have been evicted for calling her a cunt and spitting in her face. Today my other attendant was here, she’s a very timid, soft-spoken woman. She spent a good part of the day getting the apartment ready for tomorrow’s fogging. At one point she went to go check my mail, which happens to be right next to the manager’s office. Manager lady approaches her and asks again for my social worker. I told earlier in the day what happened the day before and how angry it made me, she completely understood. So my timid attendant explains to manager lady how angry I was about this, that there is nothing wrong with my mind, and that it is rude for her to assume that because I have a physical disability, I also have a mental disability, and that she needs to stop stereotyping me. Manager lady says that she senses I was angry and she feels bad about that. Before the conversation ends though, she asks one more time if there’s someone she can call to make sure that I understand what is going on… My attendant, is now just as angry as I am, and is seriously wondering if perhaps manager lady needs a social worker of her own.
The stereotype of every disabled person having a mental disability as well has always bothered me. It’s silly, old world thinking, and if you believe it then you are just an ignorant fuck, and you deserve to be ass raped by a tiger.
Usually when confronted with someone who assumes that I’m a retard, I just set them straight and can quickly laugh it off. This time though, being insulted like that in my own home has really angered me, and beyond anger it hurt me. I don’t know why I’m so much more bothered by this incident, but I am. I don’t know how I’ll deal with this lady the next time I see her; I can’t just put on a fake smile and pretend everything is okay, and I can’t let my anger take control because if I do and I cross the line I could be evicted. Normally, finding the middle ground is easy for me but not this time. Any suggestions?
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12 comments February 6, 2009
Constipated
I’m mentally constipated. I haven’t been able to think of anything to write since Thanksgiving. Even now, as I write this I’m having trouble. I have no idea what to write. Since nothing is going on in my life right now worth noting, I figured I’d entertain you all with a few stories of little NoArmsJames. Whenever I’m with my mother she loves telling stories about my childhood, and since Christmas just passed and I was with her they’re fresh in my memory.
Having no arms or legs means that I have a smaller body and can fit into smaller places. When I was very young, maybe two or three I used to love hiding and playing in the kitchen cabinets. Apparently one day while I was playing in there I thought it would be a good idea to throw all my mother’s Tupperware out of the cabinet. I don’t know why, I guess I wanted more room. So I grabbed all the Tupperware, one piece at a time and literally threw each piece out into the kitchen with my little foot. When I came out my mother told me now I had to put all the Tupperware away again. Apparently I looked right at her and said “but mommy, I don’t have any arms or legs” she countered with something to the effect that, if I was able to throw everything out of the cabinet, then I was quite capable of putting everything back in. I refused, and she took one of my favorite toys away for me. I never saw that toy again. My mother has no pity for the disabled.
When I was about a year and a half old my parents had another child, Stephen. Unfortunately Stephen had severe health problems and only lived about a month. Even though I had no brother that I could remember, I had my little cousin Craig. Craig was like my brother, and just like a little brother would do whatever I said.
So one day when I was about five, while Craig and his mother were visiting we got into a little mischief. Craig and I were upstairs in my bedroom, my mother and his were downstairs doing whatever it is mother do when they’re together. So Craig and I went exploring my mother’s bedroom and bathroom. We found where she kept the perfume and brought a bottle back to my room. We then proceeded to dump the entire bottle all over my room. My mother, becoming uneasy by how quiet we were being made her way upstairs to check on us. As she tells it, she knew it was bad about halfway up the stairs as the smell hit her. I don’t remember the conversation that took place, but I do remember knowing that I was in a lot of trouble because she didn’t yell. Even at five I could sense this was some serious shit I was in. I can still remember looking at her, seeing her outwardly calm demeanor, which I had never seen after doing something bad. I remember that sense of dread… I was fucked. I don’t remember what my punishment was, but to this day I still get uneasy when I think about that calm anger.
Throughout my childhood, I got spanked maybe three times. I only remember once, right after I called my father a mean old bastard.
I don’t remember this next story at all, so I must’ve been very young. I was with my mother at the grocery store and saw some little treat or something that I wanted, so she got it for me. A little while later I saw another treat that I wanted and asked for that as well. She told me that we didn’t have enough money for two treats and I could only have one. I protested just a little bit, and she told me sharply no, apparently I put my head down, closed my eyes and said “please don’t hit me”. My mother says that everyone around us had a mortified look on their face, wondering how she could hit this poor defenseless handicapped child. The funniest part about this story is, that she’s pretty sure that I had never even been spanked at this point in my life. I would go back in time just to see the look on the people’s faces. Man I ruled.
Those are the three stories she told me this Christmas, I’ll get more the next time I see her.
In the meantime I’ll try to find more things to write about. Maybe she sent me pictures of your tits, it would get my creative juices flowing… Just a thought.
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3 comments January 3, 2009
Devotees, Fetishists, Wannabe’s and Fakers
Man this blog is all over the place, but it’s my blog so deal with it.
I’m going to talk a little bit about Devotees, Fetishists, Wannabe’s and Fakers as they pertain to disability culture; and more specifically the amputee culture. I realize that I’m not technically an amputee, but with my missing limbs it’s the group I identify best with.
First, a little background on each (as I see them):
Devotee: Sometimes known as a “devo”. Amputee devotees are usually male, though there are females as well. A devo is someone who feels a strong initial attraction to amputees. In my eyes it’s not all that different from someone liking blonde’s over brunettes, Asians over Caucasians, etc…
Fetishist: A fetishist is like a devo, but they view the person as an object. They will lie, pretend to be someone else, pretend to be interested in an amputee to get close to them, get what they want, regardless of the effect this has on the other person. It’s purely an attraction to the amputation for them.
Wannabe: A wannabe is someone who quite simply wants to be disabled
Faker: A faker is someone who wants to be disabled, so they pretend they are. They use crutches, wheelchairs, bind their limbs to look like an amputee, etc…
In my eyes devotees are ok. Ii like the idea of someone actually liking my disability, as opposed to just being ok with it. Devo’s actually care about the person they are with, not just the disability.
It’s the other three I’m not too fond of.
Fetishists are just creepy. They literally prey on the disabled. Just about any cripple online, including me has stories about these scum. Sometimes they come on directly, sending an IM or message telling you how beautiful you are then asking for pics with your shirt off, etc… The more sinister of them will pretend to be someone else, and try to lure you in. Once, shortly after I began being open about my disability online, I started communicating with “Zana”, a lovely young lady from Atlanta who claimed to be a devotee. We exchanged emails, “she” started asking a lot of questions about how I do what I do, etc…Pretty normal stuff. We got close. Shortly after “she” started asking for pics of me in my boxers and nothing else, close-ups of my shoulders, my foot, you get the idea. As soon as I said no, “she” disappeared. I found “her” once on a site that was exposing fetishists. It was a male fetishist who was doing this to a bunch of amputees. Creepy
Wannabes and fakers kind of creep me out too, but for different reasons. I cannot wrap my head around the concept of being able-bodied and not wanting to be. I realize that it’s similar to people who wish to be a different sex, and I get it intellectually, but not emotionally. People who wish to be a different sex don’t bother me at all, but wannabes and fakers do. I guess it’s because I’m in a way, what they desire to become, while I would do just about anything not to be like this.
I saw a documentary once on wannabes/fakers. There was a man who so desired to be an amputee. Doctors refused to amputate a healthy leg, so he took a shotgun and shot his leg off. I was so disturbed and angered by this that I was nauseous. I couldn’t watch the rest of the film.
Well, now you know a little tiny bit about dis culture, you’re welcome.
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7 comments September 10, 2008
