There are a lot of people who suck in this world. Without needing to say it, child molesters, terrorists, animal abusers pretty much top the list. But everyone knows that.
This list is for those of you who are minor offenders; these people are more annoying than an actual harm to society:
People Who Write Checks: If this applies to you, let me let you in on a little secret. There are these things called debit cards; they work like credit cards in the way that it takes money directly from your checking account. Sometimes you have to remember and enter that...oh what's that tricky little thing called...oh right, your PIN. But it works just the same. STOP WRITING CHECKS. They take up a shit load of time, are completely useless, and are plain annoying. The only thing worse than writing checks are people who put the amount and the name of the place in the ledger BEFORE EVEN WRITING THE BLOODY CHECK. This is just rude. So do all of us who have to ring you up and those of us in line behind you a favor: get a fucking debit card.
People Who Walk on the Left Side: This is America. As much as you may not like it, we do everything on the right: we drive, our escalators are on the right, WE WALK ON THE RIGHT. Stop walking on the left, and then when people don't move out of your way, you get mad. Eff that. In this instance, follow the crowd.
Slow Walkers in Public Places: This goes hand in hand with those who walk on the left. If you are in a public place, don't walk ONE MILE AN HOUR. Seriously. You take up the aisles and when people pass you, you give them dirty looks. We wouldn't pass you if you weren't going so damn slow!
People Who Use Cell Phones in Inappropriate Places: See prior blog about this one.
People Who Expect An Answer from "You know, that one song...": No. I do not know that one song. I know a lot of music, but I am not a lyric database that waits for you to come in and forget what song you're looking for. Especially if it's Country. When you come into my store, don't forget the main effing reason that you're here.
People Who Don't Say "Please" and "Thank You": It's common fucking courtesy. I don't even need to delve into my hatred of people who don't have manners.
People Who Slurp Their Food: Eat with your mouth closed. You aren't a pig slurping slop. Especially cereal. Soup I can slightly understand and forgive: it's hot and you don't want to burn your tongue. CEREAL ISN'T HOT. If you're slurping because you took too big of a bite, TAKE SMALLER BITES. Nails on chalkboard for me.
People Who Drive Slow on the Freeway: Take city streets if you don't want to go 70 MPH. Otherwise, get the hell out of everyone's way.
People Who Think Reading is Stupid: Simply put, reading isn't stupid. You are.
People Who Wear Too Much Cologne/Perfume/Body Spray/Other Random Smelly Body Stuff: Ok. I get it. You like your perfume. That's fantastic. That also, however, doesn't mean that EVERYONE ON THE PLANET WILL. One or two sprays will do it. Stop dousing yourself in it because people aren't going to think you smell good; they're going to think that you don't take regular showers, so have to bathe in good smelling chemicals.
Don't worry, more will be added to the list later.
Two for the Price of One
This is going to be a two part blog. Oh boy.
It's that time of year again.
And every year I do this.
I freak myself out because school is out for a break (this time Summer) and I worry about what I'm going to do with myself. Which is ironic, because during school I complain non-stop about how I can't wait for Summer so I can relax.
The problem is that I don't know how to.
I don't know what to do with myself when I'm not writing something up, or prepping myself to read for my in class quizzes, or worrying about the paper that's due in a week. I don't know what to do with the time that I would have not been going out with friends because I have to do a work-school-work Tuesday. I don't know how to spend my time without feeling like a lazy ass and being totally unproductive.
I usually spend the first week or so cleaning: the bathroom, cleaning out my closet, or my car, or something, anything just to distract myself from the fact I don't have crazy responsibilities. Then I think about what I could do, and it just kind of...bores me. I could catch up on all the TV I missed....oh wait, I don't watch TV. I could read a lot, which I do, but I can't read all the time. I could travel, and I will be doing a bit of that, but I'm so broke it's not even funny; I'll barely afford the trip to Vegas in a month. It's just odd to me, from spending so much time worrying about school and work and juggling the two, to only having to spend 8 hours a day, 5 days a week actually being responsible.
And the best part? Once it's time for school to start, I freak myself out because I forget how to juggle work and school at the same time.
It's such a vicious cycle.
I'd hate to know now what's gonna happen when I graduate.
Ok, part two
So this might be very, very strange coming from me, and I kind of feel bad because I'm so new at this. It's only recently that I've picked you up, and I don't even know all the ins and outs of it. I used to say "psh it'll never happen, not me." but here I find myself unable to not express myself:
COME ON METS. REALLY? THIRD BASE? REALLY????
What the shit was that tonight? The amount of screw ups tonight even embarrassed me. Church, L2tag bases. The game would have been over and we would have won. Remember, last week, while playing the Braves, when Escobar underestimated you and you threw that crazy pitch and got him out? THAT, was fantastic. THIS, however, was the opposite. I am very disappointed in you; and you nearly gave my boyfriend a heart attack.
And Pagan and Beltran. Oooh...Pagan and Beltran. I don't even know what to say. That was almost comical, if it hadn't been so sad. I was actually expecting you guys to collide with each other; I probably would have at least laughed at that one. So you guys, L2call it and listen.
Finally, the throw that ended the game. Pingel totally called it. "They're gonna throw it over Castro's head." And what do you know? Reed throws it to Castro, Castro dives, and it goes right over him. *sigh* I don't even know what to tell you to l2do.
Oh Mets.
*sigh.*
It's that time of year again.
And every year I do this.
I freak myself out because school is out for a break (this time Summer) and I worry about what I'm going to do with myself. Which is ironic, because during school I complain non-stop about how I can't wait for Summer so I can relax.
The problem is that I don't know how to.
I don't know what to do with myself when I'm not writing something up, or prepping myself to read for my in class quizzes, or worrying about the paper that's due in a week. I don't know what to do with the time that I would have not been going out with friends because I have to do a work-school-work Tuesday. I don't know how to spend my time without feeling like a lazy ass and being totally unproductive.
I usually spend the first week or so cleaning: the bathroom, cleaning out my closet, or my car, or something, anything just to distract myself from the fact I don't have crazy responsibilities. Then I think about what I could do, and it just kind of...bores me. I could catch up on all the TV I missed....oh wait, I don't watch TV. I could read a lot, which I do, but I can't read all the time. I could travel, and I will be doing a bit of that, but I'm so broke it's not even funny; I'll barely afford the trip to Vegas in a month. It's just odd to me, from spending so much time worrying about school and work and juggling the two, to only having to spend 8 hours a day, 5 days a week actually being responsible.
And the best part? Once it's time for school to start, I freak myself out because I forget how to juggle work and school at the same time.
It's such a vicious cycle.
I'd hate to know now what's gonna happen when I graduate.
Ok, part two
So this might be very, very strange coming from me, and I kind of feel bad because I'm so new at this. It's only recently that I've picked you up, and I don't even know all the ins and outs of it. I used to say "psh it'll never happen, not me." but here I find myself unable to not express myself:
COME ON METS. REALLY? THIRD BASE? REALLY????
What the shit was that tonight? The amount of screw ups tonight even embarrassed me. Church, L2tag bases. The game would have been over and we would have won. Remember, last week, while playing the Braves, when Escobar underestimated you and you threw that crazy pitch and got him out? THAT, was fantastic. THIS, however, was the opposite. I am very disappointed in you; and you nearly gave my boyfriend a heart attack.
And Pagan and Beltran. Oooh...Pagan and Beltran. I don't even know what to say. That was almost comical, if it hadn't been so sad. I was actually expecting you guys to collide with each other; I probably would have at least laughed at that one. So you guys, L2call it and listen.
Finally, the throw that ended the game. Pingel totally called it. "They're gonna throw it over Castro's head." And what do you know? Reed throws it to Castro, Castro dives, and it goes right over him. *sigh* I don't even know what to tell you to l2do.
Oh Mets.
*sigh.*
Dreams
Let's face it, I'm a total night owl. I would rather be awake during the night than the day (except for maybe being able to go to the beach). I like the darkness, full moons, most aspects of it.
But not lately.
Lately I've been dreading them. Why? Because I just don't want to go to sleep. I don't want to fall asleep and have to dream. Dreams are supposed to be interesting, or silly, or fun, or dirty. But lately all I've been doing is having nightmares. Awful dreams about people dying, or getting fired at work, or my past mistakes coming back to haunt me. I wake up and want to vomit. It makes my stomach roll and my head hurt and makes me start the day sad.
I wish there was a way that I could just turn my subconscious off. I wish that I could tell it to stfu, because starting my days anxious and sad is becoming a routine that I just don't want to deal with. School is almost done, work is alright, my friends are awesome, my life is good.
So why does my subconscious hate me right now?
But not lately.
Lately I've been dreading them. Why? Because I just don't want to go to sleep. I don't want to fall asleep and have to dream. Dreams are supposed to be interesting, or silly, or fun, or dirty. But lately all I've been doing is having nightmares. Awful dreams about people dying, or getting fired at work, or my past mistakes coming back to haunt me. I wake up and want to vomit. It makes my stomach roll and my head hurt and makes me start the day sad.
I wish there was a way that I could just turn my subconscious off. I wish that I could tell it to stfu, because starting my days anxious and sad is becoming a routine that I just don't want to deal with. School is almost done, work is alright, my friends are awesome, my life is good.
So why does my subconscious hate me right now?
It's the Little Things
I woke up today after having slept for 4 1/2 hours. The entire night I kept having nightmares. I woke up anxious and sad, nearly crying for what I had dreamt.
I made some coffee, got online, and felt the anger boiling through my veins. I was so annoyed, and pissed off, and ready to murder the first person that talked to me; I was ready for this day to be full of unpleasantness.
Boy, oh boy, was I wrong.
Today ended up being one of the best days that I have had in....a very, very long time. It started by Andy sending me a link to a demotivational poster that made me laugh. He didn't have to, yet he chose to, just to try to make me feel better. It made me smile for the first time today.
I take a shower, and decide that I'm going to go to Santa Cruz. For those of you who know me, you know going to SC is my escape from the world; when I am upset, or want to think, or need to get away, it is always available and never lets me down. Stephanie urged me to go, telling me it would be a beautiful day and I would enjoy it. So I decided to take her advice.
I was getting ready to go. I was set on just grabbing my shit and leaving, and I get an IM from Pingel:
come over
please?
I thought about not going over. I was still in a mood, and was just going to close my laptop and pretend I never got it. But it was the "please" that got me. For some reason, the "please" just kind of tugged on my heart. I told him I would. And I'm glad I did. I'm not trying to brag, but my boyfriend gives the best hugs in the world. I didn't realize how badly I needed a hug until he wrapped his arms around me. From just a simple touch I felt a lot of the tension from the previous night just slip away.
We ended up watching baseball. Not my favorite thing to do, but it's enjoyable watching Pingel watch baseball. Just sitting on his bed, with him touching my hair, or talking to me, or whatever, just helped more that I am able to type on this blog. His silliness when it came to the Mets scoring made me laugh. We went to pho, which I heart hardcore. Jacque said that she would go to SC with me. By the time we got back to his place, my mood was improved dramatically.
Aptos with Jax was the clincher to what I needed today. I was surrounded by the ocean and with one of my best friends. We talked, and laughed, and she understood my frustrations from the night before, as she always, unwaveringly does. I love her more than I could say.
We took pictures; we pet every puppy that passed us; we picked flowers; we went to Capitola and browsed around the shops; we went to Margaritaville and she bought me a margarita and we munched on guacamole. Perfect.
I'm home now, but not for long. See, it's Wednesday, and we all know what that means: Saloooooooon night! The perfect closure to a fantastic day.
I love my friends and everything they do for me. Whether it's a link to a funny picture, a hug, or the understanding that sometimes you just need to get away, it seems whenever I need something, they always provide it. I try to surround myself with good people, and it is apparent, that I have succeeded at doing so.
Thank you.
I made some coffee, got online, and felt the anger boiling through my veins. I was so annoyed, and pissed off, and ready to murder the first person that talked to me; I was ready for this day to be full of unpleasantness.
Boy, oh boy, was I wrong.
Today ended up being one of the best days that I have had in....a very, very long time. It started by Andy sending me a link to a demotivational poster that made me laugh. He didn't have to, yet he chose to, just to try to make me feel better. It made me smile for the first time today.
I take a shower, and decide that I'm going to go to Santa Cruz. For those of you who know me, you know going to SC is my escape from the world; when I am upset, or want to think, or need to get away, it is always available and never lets me down. Stephanie urged me to go, telling me it would be a beautiful day and I would enjoy it. So I decided to take her advice.
I was getting ready to go. I was set on just grabbing my shit and leaving, and I get an IM from Pingel:
come over
please?
I thought about not going over. I was still in a mood, and was just going to close my laptop and pretend I never got it. But it was the "please" that got me. For some reason, the "please" just kind of tugged on my heart. I told him I would. And I'm glad I did. I'm not trying to brag, but my boyfriend gives the best hugs in the world. I didn't realize how badly I needed a hug until he wrapped his arms around me. From just a simple touch I felt a lot of the tension from the previous night just slip away.
We ended up watching baseball. Not my favorite thing to do, but it's enjoyable watching Pingel watch baseball. Just sitting on his bed, with him touching my hair, or talking to me, or whatever, just helped more that I am able to type on this blog. His silliness when it came to the Mets scoring made me laugh. We went to pho, which I heart hardcore. Jacque said that she would go to SC with me. By the time we got back to his place, my mood was improved dramatically.
Aptos with Jax was the clincher to what I needed today. I was surrounded by the ocean and with one of my best friends. We talked, and laughed, and she understood my frustrations from the night before, as she always, unwaveringly does. I love her more than I could say.
We took pictures; we pet every puppy that passed us; we picked flowers; we went to Capitola and browsed around the shops; we went to Margaritaville and she bought me a margarita and we munched on guacamole. Perfect.
I'm home now, but not for long. See, it's Wednesday, and we all know what that means: Saloooooooon night! The perfect closure to a fantastic day.
I love my friends and everything they do for me. Whether it's a link to a funny picture, a hug, or the understanding that sometimes you just need to get away, it seems whenever I need something, they always provide it. I try to surround myself with good people, and it is apparent, that I have succeeded at doing so.
Thank you.
Glad You're Not Mine
You, are a fucking tool.
I get you want to be “hip” with the employees, and you want them to like you. I’m not your fucking employee. I don’t give two shits what you think, what you have to say, or how cool you think you are. Don’t joke around with me by giving me shit. You don’t know me, so for the love of Christ stop acting like we are buddy buddy.
For your information, I’ve been doing our inventories for 8+ years. That’s a third of my life, jackass. I know what I’m doing, and the last thing I need is some newbie manager coming in and acting like he knows everything. I know how to do piece counts. I know how to do pre counts. I don’t need someone holding my hand the entire fucking time and acting like I don’t know what I’m doing.
You, are a complete tool, and I am so fucking glad you are not my boss.
I get you want to be “hip” with the employees, and you want them to like you. I’m not your fucking employee. I don’t give two shits what you think, what you have to say, or how cool you think you are. Don’t joke around with me by giving me shit. You don’t know me, so for the love of Christ stop acting like we are buddy buddy.
For your information, I’ve been doing our inventories for 8+ years. That’s a third of my life, jackass. I know what I’m doing, and the last thing I need is some newbie manager coming in and acting like he knows everything. I know how to do piece counts. I know how to do pre counts. I don’t need someone holding my hand the entire fucking time and acting like I don’t know what I’m doing.
You, are a complete tool, and I am so fucking glad you are not my boss.
The End of Nervousness
I've stopped being nervous now.
When it started, I was kind of a mess. Was it real, or was it just something that seemed easy, so why not do it? And that's the thing: it seemed so easy. So easy to slip into, so easy to do. So of course I questioned it. I mean, it was completely different from what I had ever experienced. At least when it came to this. There was usually a lot more interaction, a lot more talking, a lot more...just more. Not really saying it's a bad thing, just different. Different in a way that I was really not used to in the slightest. So it took some adjusting, and anyone who knows me knows that my adjusting means being nervous, not eating, trouble sleeping, etc.
But I'm not nervous anymore.
I don't worry about it not being what I'm used to anymore: it is what it is, and I've accepted it. I've accepted the fact that while it might not be common for me, that doesn't mean that it isn't the same. That because it's shyer or less....intense, for lack of a better word, doesn't mean it's not as important to both.
So I've relaxed, and am just taking it in stride. And I'm happy with that.
When it started, I was kind of a mess. Was it real, or was it just something that seemed easy, so why not do it? And that's the thing: it seemed so easy. So easy to slip into, so easy to do. So of course I questioned it. I mean, it was completely different from what I had ever experienced. At least when it came to this. There was usually a lot more interaction, a lot more talking, a lot more...just more. Not really saying it's a bad thing, just different. Different in a way that I was really not used to in the slightest. So it took some adjusting, and anyone who knows me knows that my adjusting means being nervous, not eating, trouble sleeping, etc.
But I'm not nervous anymore.
I don't worry about it not being what I'm used to anymore: it is what it is, and I've accepted it. I've accepted the fact that while it might not be common for me, that doesn't mean that it isn't the same. That because it's shyer or less....intense, for lack of a better word, doesn't mean it's not as important to both.
So I've relaxed, and am just taking it in stride. And I'm happy with that.
Slightly Fucked Up
You know when you have so much that you want to say, yet you don't actually know where to even begin? That's pretty much where I'm at right now. It might be the fact that I'm running on 3 1/2 hours of sleep and a shitload of caffeine, or I'm just super stressed, or whatever, but no matter what it is, it's like my brain has shut itself off and refuses to start again (reminds me of my second car).
I'm sitting in the hospital waiting room; my grandfather is having a pacemaker put into his body. My grandmother and a family friend are sitting next to me, my Nana doing a crossword, the friend, Glenna, watching some mundane cooking show. The surgeon said there's a 98% chance everything will be fine. There's still that 2% that he won't. The only thing that I can think is how tired I am.
For this reason and other reasons I feel like I'm slightly fucked up. My grandparents have been married for 60 years. 60 years. That's a shit long time. There's a chance that my grandma will lose her partner of the last 60 years today, in a heartbeat, no pun intended. See? Fucked up.
Glenna is talking to me, well, more talking at me. She's asking the typical questions that you ask someone who you haven't seen in a while but don't know very well: How's school? Are you still working? How's your mom and brother? Fine, almost done. Yeah still at the bookstore. Both working, a lot. I don't find myself caring whether she talks to me again for the rest of the time that I am down here. Or ever, for that matter. She's a liar, and likes to act like she is the sweetest thing on this earth, and no one cares more about things than she does. The best thing she's ever done in her life is hit my dad with her car.
Of course I care about my grandfather. Of course I want him to live for a long time. Of course I want my Nana to be happy and not have to worry. I know these things. It's just....difficult. When my grandparents die, I am cutting off all communication with my father and his side of the family. Why don't I do it now? Because I love my grandparents. They are good people, and the last thing I get to do is cause drama in their life by telling their son to fuck off and stop talking to everyone on this side. So here's another part of me that's fucked up: would it be so bad if he died?
I don't think I've ever written "fucked" so many times in a story. Well, it's kind of fitting now.
I'm sitting in the hospital waiting room; my grandfather is having a pacemaker put into his body. My grandmother and a family friend are sitting next to me, my Nana doing a crossword, the friend, Glenna, watching some mundane cooking show. The surgeon said there's a 98% chance everything will be fine. There's still that 2% that he won't. The only thing that I can think is how tired I am.
For this reason and other reasons I feel like I'm slightly fucked up. My grandparents have been married for 60 years. 60 years. That's a shit long time. There's a chance that my grandma will lose her partner of the last 60 years today, in a heartbeat, no pun intended. See? Fucked up.
Glenna is talking to me, well, more talking at me. She's asking the typical questions that you ask someone who you haven't seen in a while but don't know very well: How's school? Are you still working? How's your mom and brother? Fine, almost done. Yeah still at the bookstore. Both working, a lot. I don't find myself caring whether she talks to me again for the rest of the time that I am down here. Or ever, for that matter. She's a liar, and likes to act like she is the sweetest thing on this earth, and no one cares more about things than she does. The best thing she's ever done in her life is hit my dad with her car.
Of course I care about my grandfather. Of course I want him to live for a long time. Of course I want my Nana to be happy and not have to worry. I know these things. It's just....difficult. When my grandparents die, I am cutting off all communication with my father and his side of the family. Why don't I do it now? Because I love my grandparents. They are good people, and the last thing I get to do is cause drama in their life by telling their son to fuck off and stop talking to everyone on this side. So here's another part of me that's fucked up: would it be so bad if he died?
I don't think I've ever written "fucked" so many times in a story. Well, it's kind of fitting now.
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