Chapter 56
Why have I already used Statutory as a Chapter Heading?
So I received an e-mail today from one of the kids at work. It was hard to understand the first time through but the main message came across loud and clear and as I read it my stomach dropped. It’s that weird stomach dropping feeling, like the one you get when you, well…it’s almost like the one you would get if you had written the e-mail and you were waiting for a response. If that makes sense. The main point was that this kid likes me. I finally read through it a couple of more times and made sense of the beginning of the e-mail and unfortunately the message didn’t change course. I don’t know what to do? I quickly wrote to Sweet Pea explaining the situation, I have a delicate ego in my hands and I don’t know how to break it to him that I’m not interested. And is it weird that as I read the e-mail where he says that he likes me I ask aloud, “why?” It’s not low self-esteem right?
But this just figures, a guy finally likes me and he is telling me about it, and he’s short and 17 years old. Also there is the fact that I have this information now. I have more responsibility now towards this certain individual. I would feel funny if I flirted with anyone while he is around because I wouldn’t want to hurt his feelings. Also, I have to be careful because I don’t want to look like I am flirting with him and give him the wrong impression. My big goal is to be able to treat him like I always have, but apparently, by doing so, I have screwed up something, I’ve given him the impression that it is ok to like me, and it’s not. I guess he is my struggle for the summer, I get one every year. Two summers ago it was a married man who was way to forward with me, leaving me unable to trust many married guys and acting differently towards my married guy friends back at school because I felt like maybe I had been doing something wrong to attract this guy at work. If I had done something wrong there then I must be doing something wrong with the married guy friends I was close to at school. Thus ended the reign of true communication with married men. I even have my own little way of giving the female companion a way of knowing that I respect her territory, basically, I ignore the guy when she is present and focus on her and how she is doing, barely giving the guy a glance or a hello…but that’s just with strangers. I don’t really go around the ones I know, I feel like I tramp just for breathing the same air.
Yes, I have problems, I know this.
Last summer…what was last summer’s problem? Oh yes, a manager at work, also married. This work environment didn’t give me the opportunity for awkward moments, thank goodness. He wasn’t as bad as the first experience but sometimes I was left feeling a little uncomfortable around him. Now I have a teenager. I guess next summer will be some 60 year old man and then I can finally find someone my own age, unmarried, the summer after that. I will have spanned the spectrum and the universe will be balanced and ready to let me get what I want instead of thrusting all the wrong things in my face.
Monday, July 17, 2006
Chapter 55
If you don’t eat your meat you can’t have any pudding, how can you have any pudding, if you don’t eat your meat?
It would make sense that when you leave Point A headed west to get to Point B that to return on the same path back to Point A you would head east. Is this wrong? Am I in a daze and have convinced myself of a fallacy?
This morning I went to my training meeting for my job where I will be an assistant in a classroom working one on one with an autistic boy. I took 64 West to 295 and then took the right exit to get to the school. So when I left there (planning to write about different topics in today’s chapter) I thought that back tracking would be the way to go. Just do go in the opposite direction that you were headed in to return back home. It makes perfect sense to me and I am still wondering if I am completely wrong about this. So I get back on 295 and head towards 64 East. I chose to go east to get back to Richmond, since I went west to get away from Richmond. Well when I enter on 64 West nothing really looks familiar but I figure it will begin to, and then I start seeing mileage for Williamsburg and Norfolk. All I really know about these places is that they are both far from home, further than I want to be and I am not far from them now. So I turn around still wondering why in the world I would have to take west to get back east, because heaven forbid that you take 64 East to return back east from the west! So I keep driving down 64 West headed towards Richmond and I see the skyline.
Just so you may understand my frustration seeing the skyline of Richmond, I live on the west side of Richmond, so if I am headed west, and I see the skyline getting ever closer, that means that I am on the east side of Richmond. How the hell did I get on the east side of Richmond when to start off this morning I headed out further west? Further more, how did 295 get me past the city of Richmond without even realizing it? How did I circumvent the city? It’s a pretty big thing, and seeing as how I left the city…I don’t even know. It’s just frustrating me. The closer I got to home the more pissed off I became because I was coming upon home 50 minutes after I left the school. It only took me 15 to 20 minutes to get there in the first place! I don’t know if I was becoming more upset because I was hungry, and had been for a while, or because I had to pee and the pressure was building and you’ve got to let it out somehow other than peeing your pants. Or maybe it was that I hadn’t slept well last night. It could of course be drawing from the fact that I should have been able to take 64 East to get home because I took west to get away from it, I mean, that’s logical. So now I am eating graham crackers because I am an emotional eater which is probably the unhealthiest lunch I could have grabbed, but they were there and I was here spewing about how dumb my afternoon has been. I’m sitting here trying to think of how in the world I can leave the school and get home without having to go through Richmond, since I didn’t have to go through Richmond to get to the school.
AUGH !
If you don’t eat your meat you can’t have any pudding, how can you have any pudding, if you don’t eat your meat?
It would make sense that when you leave Point A headed west to get to Point B that to return on the same path back to Point A you would head east. Is this wrong? Am I in a daze and have convinced myself of a fallacy?
This morning I went to my training meeting for my job where I will be an assistant in a classroom working one on one with an autistic boy. I took 64 West to 295 and then took the right exit to get to the school. So when I left there (planning to write about different topics in today’s chapter) I thought that back tracking would be the way to go. Just do go in the opposite direction that you were headed in to return back home. It makes perfect sense to me and I am still wondering if I am completely wrong about this. So I get back on 295 and head towards 64 East. I chose to go east to get back to Richmond, since I went west to get away from Richmond. Well when I enter on 64 West nothing really looks familiar but I figure it will begin to, and then I start seeing mileage for Williamsburg and Norfolk. All I really know about these places is that they are both far from home, further than I want to be and I am not far from them now. So I turn around still wondering why in the world I would have to take west to get back east, because heaven forbid that you take 64 East to return back east from the west! So I keep driving down 64 West headed towards Richmond and I see the skyline.
Just so you may understand my frustration seeing the skyline of Richmond, I live on the west side of Richmond, so if I am headed west, and I see the skyline getting ever closer, that means that I am on the east side of Richmond. How the hell did I get on the east side of Richmond when to start off this morning I headed out further west? Further more, how did 295 get me past the city of Richmond without even realizing it? How did I circumvent the city? It’s a pretty big thing, and seeing as how I left the city…I don’t even know. It’s just frustrating me. The closer I got to home the more pissed off I became because I was coming upon home 50 minutes after I left the school. It only took me 15 to 20 minutes to get there in the first place! I don’t know if I was becoming more upset because I was hungry, and had been for a while, or because I had to pee and the pressure was building and you’ve got to let it out somehow other than peeing your pants. Or maybe it was that I hadn’t slept well last night. It could of course be drawing from the fact that I should have been able to take 64 East to get home because I took west to get away from it, I mean, that’s logical. So now I am eating graham crackers because I am an emotional eater which is probably the unhealthiest lunch I could have grabbed, but they were there and I was here spewing about how dumb my afternoon has been. I’m sitting here trying to think of how in the world I can leave the school and get home without having to go through Richmond, since I didn’t have to go through Richmond to get to the school.
AUGH !
Chapter 54
D.D.-ness
So last night my cousins had a bon-fire. At school when people wanted to have a bonfire we went to the sand dunes with tons of wood palettes and let ‘em burn. Everyone went off on natural highs and non-alcoholic drunkenness. We sometimes did stupid things but hey, we were 100% sober. Out in the ‘real world’ a bonfire involves alcohol. I was the official D.D. I had never been one of those before; I should add it to my resume. As I sat there and watched the fire and the five people with me around the fire I couldn’t help but wonder to myself who was the first person who thought getting drunk while playing with a giant bonfire was a good idea? Luckily the most that happened was some really crazy dancing, I’m happy to report that no one fell into the fire and only one marshmallow got hurt. The coolest part was how everyone thought I was funny, of course I’m not sure if I was funny or if all of them were drunk.
Since I was the D.D. in a place that I am completely unfamiliar with everyone kept trying to remind me how to get back to my aunts and uncle’s house. They had told me before the first alcoholic substance was even opened and I had remembered. I kept telling them so, and that I was good at my D.D.-ness. They seemed to really like that new word/concept. After we got back to my aunt and uncle’s it was apparent that my sister’s fiancé was drunk. The first clue, I couldn’t understand a damn thing he was sating. Second clue, he kept saying stuff that probably made sense to him but the rest of us were in the dark. Thirdly, lastly, finally, I think he tried to start a fight with me. Sober he would never have tried because he knows I could beat the crap out of him. He also seems to get needy when he is drunk, but fortunately he doesn’t get so drunk that he is needy with all of us, just my sister. He kept asking her to come sit with him. The worst part was when he decided to eat an egg sandwich. Apparently drunk people don’t know how to close their mouths when they chew. At the time he was eating I was laying on the couch trying to fall asleep and I just rolled over and tuned him out, though not before almost throwing up in my mouth first.
Today we went to the amusement. It wasn’t too bad, besides the point that we got discounted tickets at $13 each. That’s a whole lot better than the amusement park down here. Last time I went to an amusement park I sat around waiting for my group of people to get off a rollercoaster, considering that lines for rollercoaster’s are usually at least a half an hour most of my day was spent looking at my cell phone wondering who I could call and talk to for a while. This time however, I went in line with my group. Oh wait, did I mention that the “puke twins” aren’t identical. I hate rollercoaster’s, she rides most of them, she hates spinning rides, I don’t mind spinning rides. So our cousin told both of us just a few white lies to get us both to come to the park. So with that out of the way back to my story. The very first ride they opted to go on was a rollercoaster and this is when we found out about the white lies. So I stood in line with them for the 45 minute wait and as I crossed through the rollercoaster, leaving my one cousin to ride her first rollercoaster alone, I gave out a little, “whoopee” like it was the greatest ride I had ever ridden. Then I pulled out a camera and took a picture, not too many people get those kinds of Kodak moments. I became the D.B.H., the “designated bag holder”. I’m just a designated kind of person. We went on a spinney ride which I swear was made for children or midgets, it’s a toss up. Needless to say, my legs didn’t fit so I was sitting at an angle, who knew that would make you dizzier when you stood up after the ride?
Then realizing that we were all hungry we went out to the car to grab some grub. It was here when I realized that the pain I was feeling in my arms might actually be sunburn. I look like a lobster. Sunscreen was then applied but it was too late, all this did was to delay the skin cancer another couple of months. The only thing worse is the fact that I was wearing a t-shirt, this means that I have a good ole’ fashion farmer’s tan. Man am I lucky! I kind of feel like I have a three tone arm, down by my wrist is actually tan and it slowly progresses until it is bright red then the county line where I go from sun city to never seen an hour of daylight in it’s life county. It’s just embarrassing.
When we got back to the park I got more adventurous. I had been eyeing and casing a certain rollercoaster, the Iron Dragon, thinking it looked manageable. I asked around my group a little bit about it. Then finally being told that it was “smooth” and “actually coasted” I committed to ride it. My group was excited that I was going to take the plunge. It was a pretty cool rollercoaster, but I hate the feeling when you go down the first time after gong up so high. Like one of two options is about to occur, either your stomach is going to come flying out of your throat or you yourself are about to get whipped away and flung into some spot of concrete fourteen miles away. I pretended to check my pulse when we reached what I thought was the end and told my cousin that it wasn’t so bad, but then she says, “Are you ready for the next part?” There’s a next part?! It actually turned out to be the more intense part of the rollercoaster. After getting over the initial shock of being fooled by the rollercoaster itself, I decided that I liked it.
Then they decided to go on some 50-million year old wooden rollercoaster and I again decide to go on it!! My cousin told me that it was more “mellow” than the last one. I take her word for it and we get on to the ride. As it takes off we slowly go through a wooden tunnel and I take the chance to give out one of my fake screams which is more of a high pitched, yet low volume, “ahh”. Then as we are headed up the first hill the ride suddenly stops. I remembered saying earlier that I would hate for that to happen to me on a rollercoaster. Here I was, in the moment of truth, and it wasn’t so bad. My cousin on the other hand freaked out a little bit and I was the one to calm her down. When employees starting to “sprint” towards us she started asking why they were doing that, that couldn’t be good. It’s a good thing I don’t mind being suspended in air or else I would have started to freak out with her. Then a man ran by us and I asked if they were supposed to do that. I probably didn’t make anything better for her by reminding her that was couldn’t escape, we were securely strapped into our seats, so if we were to begin to plummet to the ground below there was no way we could get away from impending doom. Maybe I didn’t really calm her down at all…then we finally started to move again and we were reaching the crest of the first hill and I was getting nervous and grabbed on to the bar in front of me, she yells out, “Are you ready for this?” I scream back, “no!” and prepare myself for a quick descent. So it was a surprise to us when we reach the top it was a small bump and we coasted around a little. We both laugh about it for the next couple of hours, me going “Are you ready for this?” and then we both either laughed or fake screamed. It was my last rollercoaster and I sat out the next two while holding everyone’s bags. I also went on a ride that spun as it slowly lifted everything into the air until the point that at times I was upside, the worst part, no seat belts. Something about centrifugal/centripetal force, I don’t really remember much from high school Physics class so I couldn’t tell you which one it was. So it held us in there. It was actually very relaxing; I didn’t laugh or cry, I just relaxed, despite the fact that I didn’t have a harness securing me in. It also cooled my sunburn and felt so good; I guess it was like being tied to blade of a fan, which must be what it would feel like.
So despite that my cousin’s are weird and we are almost complete opposites, they are a lot of fun. And today I was able to see that even in their soberness I can still make them laugh, which makes me feel pretty darn good. And once again I am shown that I expect the worse and always end up having a pretty good time.
D.D.-ness
So last night my cousins had a bon-fire. At school when people wanted to have a bonfire we went to the sand dunes with tons of wood palettes and let ‘em burn. Everyone went off on natural highs and non-alcoholic drunkenness. We sometimes did stupid things but hey, we were 100% sober. Out in the ‘real world’ a bonfire involves alcohol. I was the official D.D. I had never been one of those before; I should add it to my resume. As I sat there and watched the fire and the five people with me around the fire I couldn’t help but wonder to myself who was the first person who thought getting drunk while playing with a giant bonfire was a good idea? Luckily the most that happened was some really crazy dancing, I’m happy to report that no one fell into the fire and only one marshmallow got hurt. The coolest part was how everyone thought I was funny, of course I’m not sure if I was funny or if all of them were drunk.
Since I was the D.D. in a place that I am completely unfamiliar with everyone kept trying to remind me how to get back to my aunts and uncle’s house. They had told me before the first alcoholic substance was even opened and I had remembered. I kept telling them so, and that I was good at my D.D.-ness. They seemed to really like that new word/concept. After we got back to my aunt and uncle’s it was apparent that my sister’s fiancé was drunk. The first clue, I couldn’t understand a damn thing he was sating. Second clue, he kept saying stuff that probably made sense to him but the rest of us were in the dark. Thirdly, lastly, finally, I think he tried to start a fight with me. Sober he would never have tried because he knows I could beat the crap out of him. He also seems to get needy when he is drunk, but fortunately he doesn’t get so drunk that he is needy with all of us, just my sister. He kept asking her to come sit with him. The worst part was when he decided to eat an egg sandwich. Apparently drunk people don’t know how to close their mouths when they chew. At the time he was eating I was laying on the couch trying to fall asleep and I just rolled over and tuned him out, though not before almost throwing up in my mouth first.
Today we went to the amusement. It wasn’t too bad, besides the point that we got discounted tickets at $13 each. That’s a whole lot better than the amusement park down here. Last time I went to an amusement park I sat around waiting for my group of people to get off a rollercoaster, considering that lines for rollercoaster’s are usually at least a half an hour most of my day was spent looking at my cell phone wondering who I could call and talk to for a while. This time however, I went in line with my group. Oh wait, did I mention that the “puke twins” aren’t identical. I hate rollercoaster’s, she rides most of them, she hates spinning rides, I don’t mind spinning rides. So our cousin told both of us just a few white lies to get us both to come to the park. So with that out of the way back to my story. The very first ride they opted to go on was a rollercoaster and this is when we found out about the white lies. So I stood in line with them for the 45 minute wait and as I crossed through the rollercoaster, leaving my one cousin to ride her first rollercoaster alone, I gave out a little, “whoopee” like it was the greatest ride I had ever ridden. Then I pulled out a camera and took a picture, not too many people get those kinds of Kodak moments. I became the D.B.H., the “designated bag holder”. I’m just a designated kind of person. We went on a spinney ride which I swear was made for children or midgets, it’s a toss up. Needless to say, my legs didn’t fit so I was sitting at an angle, who knew that would make you dizzier when you stood up after the ride?
Then realizing that we were all hungry we went out to the car to grab some grub. It was here when I realized that the pain I was feeling in my arms might actually be sunburn. I look like a lobster. Sunscreen was then applied but it was too late, all this did was to delay the skin cancer another couple of months. The only thing worse is the fact that I was wearing a t-shirt, this means that I have a good ole’ fashion farmer’s tan. Man am I lucky! I kind of feel like I have a three tone arm, down by my wrist is actually tan and it slowly progresses until it is bright red then the county line where I go from sun city to never seen an hour of daylight in it’s life county. It’s just embarrassing.
When we got back to the park I got more adventurous. I had been eyeing and casing a certain rollercoaster, the Iron Dragon, thinking it looked manageable. I asked around my group a little bit about it. Then finally being told that it was “smooth” and “actually coasted” I committed to ride it. My group was excited that I was going to take the plunge. It was a pretty cool rollercoaster, but I hate the feeling when you go down the first time after gong up so high. Like one of two options is about to occur, either your stomach is going to come flying out of your throat or you yourself are about to get whipped away and flung into some spot of concrete fourteen miles away. I pretended to check my pulse when we reached what I thought was the end and told my cousin that it wasn’t so bad, but then she says, “Are you ready for the next part?” There’s a next part?! It actually turned out to be the more intense part of the rollercoaster. After getting over the initial shock of being fooled by the rollercoaster itself, I decided that I liked it.
Then they decided to go on some 50-million year old wooden rollercoaster and I again decide to go on it!! My cousin told me that it was more “mellow” than the last one. I take her word for it and we get on to the ride. As it takes off we slowly go through a wooden tunnel and I take the chance to give out one of my fake screams which is more of a high pitched, yet low volume, “ahh”. Then as we are headed up the first hill the ride suddenly stops. I remembered saying earlier that I would hate for that to happen to me on a rollercoaster. Here I was, in the moment of truth, and it wasn’t so bad. My cousin on the other hand freaked out a little bit and I was the one to calm her down. When employees starting to “sprint” towards us she started asking why they were doing that, that couldn’t be good. It’s a good thing I don’t mind being suspended in air or else I would have started to freak out with her. Then a man ran by us and I asked if they were supposed to do that. I probably didn’t make anything better for her by reminding her that was couldn’t escape, we were securely strapped into our seats, so if we were to begin to plummet to the ground below there was no way we could get away from impending doom. Maybe I didn’t really calm her down at all…then we finally started to move again and we were reaching the crest of the first hill and I was getting nervous and grabbed on to the bar in front of me, she yells out, “Are you ready for this?” I scream back, “no!” and prepare myself for a quick descent. So it was a surprise to us when we reach the top it was a small bump and we coasted around a little. We both laugh about it for the next couple of hours, me going “Are you ready for this?” and then we both either laughed or fake screamed. It was my last rollercoaster and I sat out the next two while holding everyone’s bags. I also went on a ride that spun as it slowly lifted everything into the air until the point that at times I was upside, the worst part, no seat belts. Something about centrifugal/centripetal force, I don’t really remember much from high school Physics class so I couldn’t tell you which one it was. So it held us in there. It was actually very relaxing; I didn’t laugh or cry, I just relaxed, despite the fact that I didn’t have a harness securing me in. It also cooled my sunburn and felt so good; I guess it was like being tied to blade of a fan, which must be what it would feel like.
So despite that my cousin’s are weird and we are almost complete opposites, they are a lot of fun. And today I was able to see that even in their soberness I can still make them laugh, which makes me feel pretty darn good. And once again I am shown that I expect the worse and always end up having a pretty good time.
Chapter 53
The Mental Vortex
Is it just my sister’s fiancé or do all boys…sorry, guys, stop progressing at the age of 13? Or younger even. Is having a guy on a car trip the equivalent of having a child along for the ride? Can we say annoying? And do they then only become bearable to the women who love them? Is it adorable to them? Because it sure is annoying to me! And people wonder why I don’t really care to get married…I personally don’t want someone who is going to tick me off three or four times in a day, and that’s only counting the times that they intentionally try to aggravate you. It’s just constant talking, and not even steady or coherent. It’s, “oh look at that car, that’s a nice...oh look at that field, it’s flooded.” I swear, he has A.D.D. Now I know that not all guys are like this, that would be stereotyping or over generalizing, those are bad things or so I have been told. But for me, the best part of the trip was when our male companion was fast asleep.
But it has been brought to my attention before, and by a male no less, that if a guy thought something was funny when he was 13, then he will always think it is funny, whereas, girls tend to grow out of these, it’s where the concept of “going through a phase” came from. Boys don’t go through phases after the age of 13; they just reach a dead end, an area of mentality with no outlet. So therefore, every girl has her choice of 13 year olds walking around in bodies of all different ages. Thinking of this concept that my male friend shared with me, I look at interactions with a lot of guys that would never be on my list of candidates for possible boyfriends. These boys really are young adolescents trapped in the bodies of men. What a waste. This mentality that they have been stuck with, imprisoned with, is what leads to those awkward moments that you can have with them. The guys who will say something that to them is one of the funniest, let’s not forget perverted, thing that they can say and they are holding back from laughing while you are sitting there wondering if they took special ed classes when they were younger. I was once asked if I like to go fishing by a guy at work while I was in high school, while our thirty-something year old coworker was standing not too far off. Almost as soon as the kid got the question out both started to laugh like a pair of idiots. I was left there not sure what they were talking about but getting the feeling that whatever it was had to be perverted and I didn’t want to know, besides that there is the fact that this thirty-something year old coworker would always ask me and every other girl at work how our sex lives were. It’s a conversation stopper, of course being a boy usually is.
So, I’m going to Michigan, and I must admit it felt like I was leaving Virginia for another school year. Michigan is usually the first stop on my way back to Idaho. I feel like we could leave in the morning and continue on 80-West towards Utah. Half of me wants to and I think I would if I were alone on this trip. Long car rides like the one from Virginia to Michigan, always leave time for me to evaluate my life. Where am I going? How am I going to get there if I ever figure out where the hell I am going? Do I want to move? Will I ever get a real job? And other various problems that I have, but I should probably go back to therapy for answers to those ones…let’s not dwell.
All of my dad’s side of the family live in Michigan, so that means all of my cousins have stuck around there. My dad’s branch of the family tree is the only one that keeps on moving further out, by this I don’t mean that my family up in Michigan inbreed, I meant that they geographically move outwards. My brother and sister in Utah, a brother in Florida, and a sister in North Carolina. As far as I know, none of my cousin’s has left far from where they grew up…not even temporarily. There are so many of them that I don’t even know all of them. I have the names of about 10 of them, I think; I’m being very generous with myself. They are weird, I love them automatically because they are family, but it doesn’t change that they are weird, and that they think we are weird. It’s like how they try to tell us that we have accents when it’s obvious that they do. They have funny words for normal objects, I think they all have at least one tattoo, cuss like sailors, oh and did I mention that they are democrats? Yup, every last one of them! I have been home from my bubble of Rexburg, Idaho for almost two months and I had no idea what “the world” was really like until I hung out with them. Thank goodness for my one cousin who his own mother says he is “too damn conservative”. I like that he is conservative, it’s like finding a McDonald’s in Japan, something that is familiar in a strange place. I don’t really like McDonald’s…I do like my cousin though, I think you get my point.
This weekend one of my more crazy cousins wants me to go to an amusement park…I hate amusements parks. I pay too much money to go and stand around while everyone else rides roller coasters. This cousin however has invited another cousin who also doesn’t like rollercoaster. So we have earned the name of “the puke twins” and we’ll be paired off together. Last night though I had a dream that my cousin’s fiancé who I haven’t actually met came over to tell us that something happened to her and we weren’t going to be able to go. My subconscious reaching out to me? Possibly.
The other half of my dream involved being at work and there was a bagging contest. Baby face was there and kept trying to mess me up, but it was all in good fun. Then suddenly we were at a trial and a lady that I knew, but didn’t like was getting off for killing her husband. I went to her house to check up on her and the kids and the kids were home alone because the mom was out whoring herself around. Needless to say, I probably shouldn’t watch Dateline right before going to bed.
The Mental Vortex
Is it just my sister’s fiancé or do all boys…sorry, guys, stop progressing at the age of 13? Or younger even. Is having a guy on a car trip the equivalent of having a child along for the ride? Can we say annoying? And do they then only become bearable to the women who love them? Is it adorable to them? Because it sure is annoying to me! And people wonder why I don’t really care to get married…I personally don’t want someone who is going to tick me off three or four times in a day, and that’s only counting the times that they intentionally try to aggravate you. It’s just constant talking, and not even steady or coherent. It’s, “oh look at that car, that’s a nice...oh look at that field, it’s flooded.” I swear, he has A.D.D. Now I know that not all guys are like this, that would be stereotyping or over generalizing, those are bad things or so I have been told. But for me, the best part of the trip was when our male companion was fast asleep.
But it has been brought to my attention before, and by a male no less, that if a guy thought something was funny when he was 13, then he will always think it is funny, whereas, girls tend to grow out of these, it’s where the concept of “going through a phase” came from. Boys don’t go through phases after the age of 13; they just reach a dead end, an area of mentality with no outlet. So therefore, every girl has her choice of 13 year olds walking around in bodies of all different ages. Thinking of this concept that my male friend shared with me, I look at interactions with a lot of guys that would never be on my list of candidates for possible boyfriends. These boys really are young adolescents trapped in the bodies of men. What a waste. This mentality that they have been stuck with, imprisoned with, is what leads to those awkward moments that you can have with them. The guys who will say something that to them is one of the funniest, let’s not forget perverted, thing that they can say and they are holding back from laughing while you are sitting there wondering if they took special ed classes when they were younger. I was once asked if I like to go fishing by a guy at work while I was in high school, while our thirty-something year old coworker was standing not too far off. Almost as soon as the kid got the question out both started to laugh like a pair of idiots. I was left there not sure what they were talking about but getting the feeling that whatever it was had to be perverted and I didn’t want to know, besides that there is the fact that this thirty-something year old coworker would always ask me and every other girl at work how our sex lives were. It’s a conversation stopper, of course being a boy usually is.
So, I’m going to Michigan, and I must admit it felt like I was leaving Virginia for another school year. Michigan is usually the first stop on my way back to Idaho. I feel like we could leave in the morning and continue on 80-West towards Utah. Half of me wants to and I think I would if I were alone on this trip. Long car rides like the one from Virginia to Michigan, always leave time for me to evaluate my life. Where am I going? How am I going to get there if I ever figure out where the hell I am going? Do I want to move? Will I ever get a real job? And other various problems that I have, but I should probably go back to therapy for answers to those ones…let’s not dwell.
All of my dad’s side of the family live in Michigan, so that means all of my cousins have stuck around there. My dad’s branch of the family tree is the only one that keeps on moving further out, by this I don’t mean that my family up in Michigan inbreed, I meant that they geographically move outwards. My brother and sister in Utah, a brother in Florida, and a sister in North Carolina. As far as I know, none of my cousin’s has left far from where they grew up…not even temporarily. There are so many of them that I don’t even know all of them. I have the names of about 10 of them, I think; I’m being very generous with myself. They are weird, I love them automatically because they are family, but it doesn’t change that they are weird, and that they think we are weird. It’s like how they try to tell us that we have accents when it’s obvious that they do. They have funny words for normal objects, I think they all have at least one tattoo, cuss like sailors, oh and did I mention that they are democrats? Yup, every last one of them! I have been home from my bubble of Rexburg, Idaho for almost two months and I had no idea what “the world” was really like until I hung out with them. Thank goodness for my one cousin who his own mother says he is “too damn conservative”. I like that he is conservative, it’s like finding a McDonald’s in Japan, something that is familiar in a strange place. I don’t really like McDonald’s…I do like my cousin though, I think you get my point.
This weekend one of my more crazy cousins wants me to go to an amusement park…I hate amusements parks. I pay too much money to go and stand around while everyone else rides roller coasters. This cousin however has invited another cousin who also doesn’t like rollercoaster. So we have earned the name of “the puke twins” and we’ll be paired off together. Last night though I had a dream that my cousin’s fiancé who I haven’t actually met came over to tell us that something happened to her and we weren’t going to be able to go. My subconscious reaching out to me? Possibly.
The other half of my dream involved being at work and there was a bagging contest. Baby face was there and kept trying to mess me up, but it was all in good fun. Then suddenly we were at a trial and a lady that I knew, but didn’t like was getting off for killing her husband. I went to her house to check up on her and the kids and the kids were home alone because the mom was out whoring herself around. Needless to say, I probably shouldn’t watch Dateline right before going to bed.
Chapter 52
The Complete Anthology
So I found some of my old “work”. Actually I knew where it was, but I wanted to throw something out so I started there, except that I haven’t thrown anything away. Mostly I think I was going to try to consolidate notebooks. Take two writing notebooks and put them together, which still hasn’t happened. As I skimmed through the starts and sometimes just the ends of stories that I have thought up over the years I found some poetry that was misplaced in the short story notebook. So I lugged out the old poetry notebook and learned a few things about myself from re-reading some of the old stuff. One, I wrote, a lot, and mostly it was crap, but there are some good ones and sometimes only some good lines that I would like to transplant into a better poem if poetry was still what I did. Secondly, good news, I have always been a cynic; at least I have it recorded back to the time that I was 15. I was worried that cynicism was a relatively new characteristic that I had picked up sometime between 19 and now but what do you know…I’ve been this way for a while. I don’t know if it was one of my very early poems about killing someone because they gave me AIDS (P.S. I don’t have AIDS and I think maybe I was already watching too much Law and Order by the young age of 15). Or it could have been the poem I wrote in eleventh grade for a contest about being able to become anything you wanted (the topic they gave us), which I thought at the time that I had a nice twist about how the adults tell you what you need to do to be better, to be more like them, but who would want that? I mean seriously, I was totally meant to be a Sociology major; I was all about the down with the man attitude and how they were polluting our minds before I even knew what ‘the man’ was. I think when I wrote the poem I was pissed at one of the authority figures at work who wouldn’t just make me a damn cashier. I did all the basic requirements; I became a freaking “certified” bagger (which involved quite a bit of memorization; I used to carry a card around with me while I took people’s orders to their car and memorize the store motto…seriously). After round one, this authority figure told me that maybe it would be best if I didn’t talk to the other employees so much, pardon me for trying to raise morale. Anyway, it was one excuse after the other and so therefore returning to this poem, I was mad and wanted to ‘stick it to the man’. Of course, that phrase was beyond me when I was 16 years old and I think it’s a good thing, otherwise that phrase may have actually made it into the poem and it would have been worse than it already is.
I was such a drama queen, I mean, I’m laughing at myself. Some of the poems are about boys, big surprise there. But I didn’t even have a relationship with any of these guys and yet I was acting like I did. Goodness, I really was a stalker back in the day…hmm. Why in the world did I think I knew what it felt like to get my heart broken when I was sixteen years old? And why, for the love, did I think that I could make all the bad moments in my life rhyme? Oh, let me find one. You know what, I don’t know if I am ready to share the really bad ones, I mean, I don’t mind telling myself like it is, but I’m still afraid to let others see how much I suck. Man I am so glad that “past me” never met “future me”, because I don’t think that as fragile as I was I could take my own criticism like this! I’d probably write a rhyming poem about it and cry myself to sleep about what I jerk I turned out to be.
Moving on, there are some poems really early on about friendships. I know exactly who they are about and I just sound bitter (this is where the cynical part of me really showed). I think it explains a lot about me though. As young as 15 my friends in the past (particularly the one who had driven me to my pen and paper so many times) had shown me that friendships don’t last forever. There is no such thing as BFF (Best Friends Forever for those of you who are not literate in the speaking in letters deal). This could be the foundation to why I am so consigned that when you say goodbye to someone who lives on the other side of the country that that is it. You say goodbye and the reality of the situation is that life goes on, they want to stay your friend, and you both work at it for a while, but in the end life proceeds in its normal velocity and both forget about the other. Even with my past though I feel the need to insert here that I think that Sweet Pea has a chance. Besides, the internet and cell phones have come around since I was 15 and they seem to be helping bridge the geographical gap. What’s more, we have our reunion trip with Oreo that hopefully both are still planning on.
Moving on…The creepy thing is, as I read some of these poems, I can remember why I started to write them, and I can also remember enough about the situation that I was writing about that I know I was embellishing the truth. Like one I wrote when I was fifteen because my dad was telling me to do the dishes, oh poor me, my dad was going to make me do the dishes, I said it was a bother because of all the other things I had to do, but honestly, I was probably just trying to catch an episode of Law and Order. It was a tough time for me, I mean; I spent four hours a day on the phone with my best friend watching MTV’s Total Request Live upside down. Of course, I only got away with this because during this tumultuous time in my life my mother worked at night…it always comes back to the mother doesn’t it?
The Complete Anthology
So I found some of my old “work”. Actually I knew where it was, but I wanted to throw something out so I started there, except that I haven’t thrown anything away. Mostly I think I was going to try to consolidate notebooks. Take two writing notebooks and put them together, which still hasn’t happened. As I skimmed through the starts and sometimes just the ends of stories that I have thought up over the years I found some poetry that was misplaced in the short story notebook. So I lugged out the old poetry notebook and learned a few things about myself from re-reading some of the old stuff. One, I wrote, a lot, and mostly it was crap, but there are some good ones and sometimes only some good lines that I would like to transplant into a better poem if poetry was still what I did. Secondly, good news, I have always been a cynic; at least I have it recorded back to the time that I was 15. I was worried that cynicism was a relatively new characteristic that I had picked up sometime between 19 and now but what do you know…I’ve been this way for a while. I don’t know if it was one of my very early poems about killing someone because they gave me AIDS (P.S. I don’t have AIDS and I think maybe I was already watching too much Law and Order by the young age of 15). Or it could have been the poem I wrote in eleventh grade for a contest about being able to become anything you wanted (the topic they gave us), which I thought at the time that I had a nice twist about how the adults tell you what you need to do to be better, to be more like them, but who would want that? I mean seriously, I was totally meant to be a Sociology major; I was all about the down with the man attitude and how they were polluting our minds before I even knew what ‘the man’ was. I think when I wrote the poem I was pissed at one of the authority figures at work who wouldn’t just make me a damn cashier. I did all the basic requirements; I became a freaking “certified” bagger (which involved quite a bit of memorization; I used to carry a card around with me while I took people’s orders to their car and memorize the store motto…seriously). After round one, this authority figure told me that maybe it would be best if I didn’t talk to the other employees so much, pardon me for trying to raise morale. Anyway, it was one excuse after the other and so therefore returning to this poem, I was mad and wanted to ‘stick it to the man’. Of course, that phrase was beyond me when I was 16 years old and I think it’s a good thing, otherwise that phrase may have actually made it into the poem and it would have been worse than it already is.
I was such a drama queen, I mean, I’m laughing at myself. Some of the poems are about boys, big surprise there. But I didn’t even have a relationship with any of these guys and yet I was acting like I did. Goodness, I really was a stalker back in the day…hmm. Why in the world did I think I knew what it felt like to get my heart broken when I was sixteen years old? And why, for the love, did I think that I could make all the bad moments in my life rhyme? Oh, let me find one. You know what, I don’t know if I am ready to share the really bad ones, I mean, I don’t mind telling myself like it is, but I’m still afraid to let others see how much I suck. Man I am so glad that “past me” never met “future me”, because I don’t think that as fragile as I was I could take my own criticism like this! I’d probably write a rhyming poem about it and cry myself to sleep about what I jerk I turned out to be.
Moving on, there are some poems really early on about friendships. I know exactly who they are about and I just sound bitter (this is where the cynical part of me really showed). I think it explains a lot about me though. As young as 15 my friends in the past (particularly the one who had driven me to my pen and paper so many times) had shown me that friendships don’t last forever. There is no such thing as BFF (Best Friends Forever for those of you who are not literate in the speaking in letters deal). This could be the foundation to why I am so consigned that when you say goodbye to someone who lives on the other side of the country that that is it. You say goodbye and the reality of the situation is that life goes on, they want to stay your friend, and you both work at it for a while, but in the end life proceeds in its normal velocity and both forget about the other. Even with my past though I feel the need to insert here that I think that Sweet Pea has a chance. Besides, the internet and cell phones have come around since I was 15 and they seem to be helping bridge the geographical gap. What’s more, we have our reunion trip with Oreo that hopefully both are still planning on.
Moving on…The creepy thing is, as I read some of these poems, I can remember why I started to write them, and I can also remember enough about the situation that I was writing about that I know I was embellishing the truth. Like one I wrote when I was fifteen because my dad was telling me to do the dishes, oh poor me, my dad was going to make me do the dishes, I said it was a bother because of all the other things I had to do, but honestly, I was probably just trying to catch an episode of Law and Order. It was a tough time for me, I mean; I spent four hours a day on the phone with my best friend watching MTV’s Total Request Live upside down. Of course, I only got away with this because during this tumultuous time in my life my mother worked at night…it always comes back to the mother doesn’t it?
Chapter 51
Angry Eyes
Today I have been extremely and uncontrollably angry. The turrets syndrome was full blown today. Barely anyone noticed thank goodness. I guess it was a mixture of yesterday and today. Yesterday they called me into work early, entitling me to a half hour break. Not only was I stuck on a damn express lane from 3:30 to 7:15 but they didn’t give me my ‘mandatory regardless of how many hours you work over 3’ 15 minute break. That’s right, my first break didn’t come until almost 4 hours after getting to work in a 6 hour shift, but they failed to give me my last break. It pisses me off, and even more so that today I didn’t get my first break until after 1 o’clock and I had been at work since 9:30. Again, almost four hours…that’s not normal for all of you people who are fortunate enough to have semi-real to real jobs. Then my manager pulls me aside and apologizes because he accidentally marked me as having my break and that’s why it took so long, and the next time that happens I should tell him about it. Yeah, like I know when he is going to accidentally mark me off as already having gotten my break.
Also they are redoing the store, I mean, they are moving everything around and we have all these customers who were “forced” (as one customer said) to come to our store because they closed the store closest to their house (mind you it was closest to mine as well but it’s an extra minute in your drive, suck it up cry babies). So all these customers are complaining about how we are changing the store around to confuse them…uh...yeah you paranoid freaks, we decided we hate you, and only you, therefore we not only forced you to come to a better, cleaner looking store, but we are changing the freaking place to fit in your damn pharmacy that you have probably been bitching about losing when the other store closed. I’m so sorry that the world is out to get you; meanwhile, my job has gone to shitsville and I absolutely hate it. It’s not just these people who think that it is my honor and my privilege to “serve” their lily white asses with their manicured nails and not a day’s labor on their hands and who for some freaking reason think I want them to be there any more than they want to be there. If it sucks so bad, find another grocery store, cause guess what?! I could care less! In fact, I’ll personally sign you up for one of their “savor” cards as long as you get your ass out of my store and leave me the hell alone. I get paid no matter where you decide to shop. Did I mention that it’s not just them? It’s management, it’s the store changing its entire insides around (And not in the most strategic way either), it’s just a bunch of things and I think that maybe I have finally outgrown my high school job (just took five years after graduation).
Who knows, maybe it doesn’t even boil down to them, maybe they are casualties stuck in the path of something else eating away at me…shall we move on then, to my next complaint?
I love my mom, really, I do, but in this little do-dad I have a place to vent about her. I don’t think she realizes that she doesn’t make life much easier by telling me the should-a would-a could-as of life. Yes, I probably should have started to apply for jobs before I even graduated, hell, let’s throw in that I should have probably pick a different major than Sociology! What do I have to show for 4.5 years of college? A degree that can’t do a thing for me looking for jobs that require 2-5 years work experience. What is the freaking point of college? I should have probably just joined the work force immediately after high school and been someone’s peon until I moved up the ranks to the positions that people are actually hiring for now. Where are the entry level jobs? How do people get this experience that you are looking for? It’s just so stupid. I’ve deviated from my mother to my next complaint, oh well.
I’m unemployable; I have no marketable skills, nothing to offer the world. I tried to think of things I could do so I could start my own business…but I’m brain dead, flat line, nothing. All I know is what I don’t want and where exactly is that suppose to take me? I’m just wasting space right now. I filled out information on Monster.com in the hopes that maybe the monster can help me in my employment endeavors; I even added another city to my potential and the green light on relocation, which would be Sacramento, California. Oh, in case you don’t realize why Sacramento, California would make my list and the okay to move to that location, this is home to Sweet Pea. Hey, she always says to move to California. Now, I’m not expecting to actually get any job offers in California, but I felt spontaneous tonight. Heck, if I can get a job there, I will consider it! Right now I am pretty much open to any city within the United States, except those located in Hurricane paths, Texas, Arizona, or New Mexico. Okay, so I’m not as open to move as I first seem, but hey, I’m willing to move. I am not as attached as I formerly have been. My parents will be fine without me, and I would probably be better off further away from them, my sister will be fine, and my friends…ha, what friends? I mean, I have people that I joke around with at work, and I have friends that I hang out with, but why would I stay here just because of that? I barely know these people, why do I owe them that? Digression again.
Have I mentioned that no one knows how to drive here? Honestly, they don’t. They have been doing nothing but pissing me off for the last 4 days now. It was sporadic at first, but it’s been constant the last couple of days. Tonight I was driving behind a slow poke so I turn on my signal and I move into the next lane to pass them, what does Mr. Brainpan do? He pulls in front of me…with out a freaking blinker. I can’t go back to the other lane because someone else has moved into my spot. I had to wonder if the moron in the van in front of me had any other plans today other than being a freaking idiot!
Meanwhile there is some guy sitting on the couch in our living room talking on his damn cell phone. His identity is beyond me, I have not been introduced to this one, nor do I even care. All I know is that he is all alone, lounging on the couch. Go back to your own freaking home loser and stop breathing my air!!
I need to watch a movie where people’s lives don’t end happily ever after, maybe that way I’ll realize that life is suppose to be this screwy at times but it doesn’t mean prince charming is on his way, in fact, he’s probably sitting in his boxer shorts and a dirty tee shirt eating Doritos and playing a video game, not realizing how pathetic he is.
Angry Eyes
Today I have been extremely and uncontrollably angry. The turrets syndrome was full blown today. Barely anyone noticed thank goodness. I guess it was a mixture of yesterday and today. Yesterday they called me into work early, entitling me to a half hour break. Not only was I stuck on a damn express lane from 3:30 to 7:15 but they didn’t give me my ‘mandatory regardless of how many hours you work over 3’ 15 minute break. That’s right, my first break didn’t come until almost 4 hours after getting to work in a 6 hour shift, but they failed to give me my last break. It pisses me off, and even more so that today I didn’t get my first break until after 1 o’clock and I had been at work since 9:30. Again, almost four hours…that’s not normal for all of you people who are fortunate enough to have semi-real to real jobs. Then my manager pulls me aside and apologizes because he accidentally marked me as having my break and that’s why it took so long, and the next time that happens I should tell him about it. Yeah, like I know when he is going to accidentally mark me off as already having gotten my break.
Also they are redoing the store, I mean, they are moving everything around and we have all these customers who were “forced” (as one customer said) to come to our store because they closed the store closest to their house (mind you it was closest to mine as well but it’s an extra minute in your drive, suck it up cry babies). So all these customers are complaining about how we are changing the store around to confuse them…uh...yeah you paranoid freaks, we decided we hate you, and only you, therefore we not only forced you to come to a better, cleaner looking store, but we are changing the freaking place to fit in your damn pharmacy that you have probably been bitching about losing when the other store closed. I’m so sorry that the world is out to get you; meanwhile, my job has gone to shitsville and I absolutely hate it. It’s not just these people who think that it is my honor and my privilege to “serve” their lily white asses with their manicured nails and not a day’s labor on their hands and who for some freaking reason think I want them to be there any more than they want to be there. If it sucks so bad, find another grocery store, cause guess what?! I could care less! In fact, I’ll personally sign you up for one of their “savor” cards as long as you get your ass out of my store and leave me the hell alone. I get paid no matter where you decide to shop. Did I mention that it’s not just them? It’s management, it’s the store changing its entire insides around (And not in the most strategic way either), it’s just a bunch of things and I think that maybe I have finally outgrown my high school job (just took five years after graduation).
Who knows, maybe it doesn’t even boil down to them, maybe they are casualties stuck in the path of something else eating away at me…shall we move on then, to my next complaint?
I love my mom, really, I do, but in this little do-dad I have a place to vent about her. I don’t think she realizes that she doesn’t make life much easier by telling me the should-a would-a could-as of life. Yes, I probably should have started to apply for jobs before I even graduated, hell, let’s throw in that I should have probably pick a different major than Sociology! What do I have to show for 4.5 years of college? A degree that can’t do a thing for me looking for jobs that require 2-5 years work experience. What is the freaking point of college? I should have probably just joined the work force immediately after high school and been someone’s peon until I moved up the ranks to the positions that people are actually hiring for now. Where are the entry level jobs? How do people get this experience that you are looking for? It’s just so stupid. I’ve deviated from my mother to my next complaint, oh well.
I’m unemployable; I have no marketable skills, nothing to offer the world. I tried to think of things I could do so I could start my own business…but I’m brain dead, flat line, nothing. All I know is what I don’t want and where exactly is that suppose to take me? I’m just wasting space right now. I filled out information on Monster.com in the hopes that maybe the monster can help me in my employment endeavors; I even added another city to my potential and the green light on relocation, which would be Sacramento, California. Oh, in case you don’t realize why Sacramento, California would make my list and the okay to move to that location, this is home to Sweet Pea. Hey, she always says to move to California. Now, I’m not expecting to actually get any job offers in California, but I felt spontaneous tonight. Heck, if I can get a job there, I will consider it! Right now I am pretty much open to any city within the United States, except those located in Hurricane paths, Texas, Arizona, or New Mexico. Okay, so I’m not as open to move as I first seem, but hey, I’m willing to move. I am not as attached as I formerly have been. My parents will be fine without me, and I would probably be better off further away from them, my sister will be fine, and my friends…ha, what friends? I mean, I have people that I joke around with at work, and I have friends that I hang out with, but why would I stay here just because of that? I barely know these people, why do I owe them that? Digression again.
Have I mentioned that no one knows how to drive here? Honestly, they don’t. They have been doing nothing but pissing me off for the last 4 days now. It was sporadic at first, but it’s been constant the last couple of days. Tonight I was driving behind a slow poke so I turn on my signal and I move into the next lane to pass them, what does Mr. Brainpan do? He pulls in front of me…with out a freaking blinker. I can’t go back to the other lane because someone else has moved into my spot. I had to wonder if the moron in the van in front of me had any other plans today other than being a freaking idiot!
Meanwhile there is some guy sitting on the couch in our living room talking on his damn cell phone. His identity is beyond me, I have not been introduced to this one, nor do I even care. All I know is that he is all alone, lounging on the couch. Go back to your own freaking home loser and stop breathing my air!!
I need to watch a movie where people’s lives don’t end happily ever after, maybe that way I’ll realize that life is suppose to be this screwy at times but it doesn’t mean prince charming is on his way, in fact, he’s probably sitting in his boxer shorts and a dirty tee shirt eating Doritos and playing a video game, not realizing how pathetic he is.
Chapter 50
Night of the Living Deaf
Today I found out that Gotta Pee is another guy who I forgot worked in that department. He’s a nice guy and all, but everything makes total sense with him being Gotta Pee. From what I know about his personality I can totally see him saying that. My friend at work told me the story behind it and it was pretty funny. Just thought I would let you know.
Moving on, tonight at work was very odd. I worked over in the café tonight and in half an hour I had three deaf customers! The odds of getting one in a whole day’s work is slim to none so three in only 30 minutes is pretty exceptional. This is especially rare since I am the only cashier who knows sign language. Just thought I would note that very curious occurrence.
Another strange event and I’ll add uncomfortable to this one, was that I ran into my ex-boyfriend tonight. Now, he’s not really my ex-boyfriend, according to me we never dated, we went on two dates and that was that. However, according to him we were apparently an item. When things were “obviously over” to him he broke up with me, (this being a hint to me that we had apparently been going out for a couple of months). Since I have been broken up with I figure that I’ll just call him my ex-boyfriend. I was walking out to my car after work and he was talking to one of my friends in the parking lot. So my friend, who I get the funny feeling, was trying to pawn ex-boyfriend off on me, called me over to say “Look who it is!” since I haven’t seen ex-boyfriend in a couple of years. I was able to get out of giving a hug since I had just gotten off work and was a bit sweaty, and said so as I came up so he would get the idea that I didn’t want to give a hug. I wouldn’t let my friend pawn ex-boyfriend off on me. We all stood around talking in the parking lot for about 20 minutes. Well, in all honesty, my friend and I were talking to each other for 20 minutes; ex-boyfriend was just kind of standing there listening to our old stories about old friends. My friend was more my boyfriend in high school than ex-boyfriend was and I never even went on one date with him, well, a real date with him (this is the friend who I was a substitute girlfriend for). Is this getting complicated yet? Let’s move on. Then I finally said that I had to go because my mom bought me dinner (half true) so I left then in the parking lot together as I drove off. I went and got my dinner and came home.
Meanwhile I am watching the original “Shining” and the mother is still annoying as ever. I was going to give her the benefit of the doubt on the screaming because she does it so well, and when I come to think of it, if my husband was Jack Nicholson and he had suddenly taken an ax to the bathroom door in order to break it down and kill me…I’d be screaming too. Maybe more than she did. But you see, any credit I give her is automatically taken away as she flails her arms around while she runs. I run like she does in the movie when I am trying to get a laugh out of people. To make it worse she’s got huge knife in her hand! I keep waiting for it to slice her cheek or chin as she goes running around. Then, she gets to the top of these stairs and a man in a business suit and what I think is a bear costume are sitting in this room, who knows what was going on there, and instead of being perplexed she goes running off again, knife flailing in the air, screaming. I would personally just have been very perplexed, then again, I forget that her and her small family where the only ones there, supposedly. Of course I did watch my favorite scene, when the blood starts coming out of the elevators in huge quantities and her little pale face starts sucking in air like crazy. Strangely through the whole thing though I just kept thinking of when the Simpson’s did a little parody on this with Homer being the one to go crazy and he says as he lifts his knife into the air, “Urge to kill rising!” Oh goodness, Jack Nicholson is the ultimate scary man. Maybe it’s the eyebrows.
Night of the Living Deaf
Today I found out that Gotta Pee is another guy who I forgot worked in that department. He’s a nice guy and all, but everything makes total sense with him being Gotta Pee. From what I know about his personality I can totally see him saying that. My friend at work told me the story behind it and it was pretty funny. Just thought I would let you know.
Moving on, tonight at work was very odd. I worked over in the café tonight and in half an hour I had three deaf customers! The odds of getting one in a whole day’s work is slim to none so three in only 30 minutes is pretty exceptional. This is especially rare since I am the only cashier who knows sign language. Just thought I would note that very curious occurrence.
Another strange event and I’ll add uncomfortable to this one, was that I ran into my ex-boyfriend tonight. Now, he’s not really my ex-boyfriend, according to me we never dated, we went on two dates and that was that. However, according to him we were apparently an item. When things were “obviously over” to him he broke up with me, (this being a hint to me that we had apparently been going out for a couple of months). Since I have been broken up with I figure that I’ll just call him my ex-boyfriend. I was walking out to my car after work and he was talking to one of my friends in the parking lot. So my friend, who I get the funny feeling, was trying to pawn ex-boyfriend off on me, called me over to say “Look who it is!” since I haven’t seen ex-boyfriend in a couple of years. I was able to get out of giving a hug since I had just gotten off work and was a bit sweaty, and said so as I came up so he would get the idea that I didn’t want to give a hug. I wouldn’t let my friend pawn ex-boyfriend off on me. We all stood around talking in the parking lot for about 20 minutes. Well, in all honesty, my friend and I were talking to each other for 20 minutes; ex-boyfriend was just kind of standing there listening to our old stories about old friends. My friend was more my boyfriend in high school than ex-boyfriend was and I never even went on one date with him, well, a real date with him (this is the friend who I was a substitute girlfriend for). Is this getting complicated yet? Let’s move on. Then I finally said that I had to go because my mom bought me dinner (half true) so I left then in the parking lot together as I drove off. I went and got my dinner and came home.
Meanwhile I am watching the original “Shining” and the mother is still annoying as ever. I was going to give her the benefit of the doubt on the screaming because she does it so well, and when I come to think of it, if my husband was Jack Nicholson and he had suddenly taken an ax to the bathroom door in order to break it down and kill me…I’d be screaming too. Maybe more than she did. But you see, any credit I give her is automatically taken away as she flails her arms around while she runs. I run like she does in the movie when I am trying to get a laugh out of people. To make it worse she’s got huge knife in her hand! I keep waiting for it to slice her cheek or chin as she goes running around. Then, she gets to the top of these stairs and a man in a business suit and what I think is a bear costume are sitting in this room, who knows what was going on there, and instead of being perplexed she goes running off again, knife flailing in the air, screaming. I would personally just have been very perplexed, then again, I forget that her and her small family where the only ones there, supposedly. Of course I did watch my favorite scene, when the blood starts coming out of the elevators in huge quantities and her little pale face starts sucking in air like crazy. Strangely through the whole thing though I just kept thinking of when the Simpson’s did a little parody on this with Homer being the one to go crazy and he says as he lifts his knife into the air, “Urge to kill rising!” Oh goodness, Jack Nicholson is the ultimate scary man. Maybe it’s the eyebrows.
Chapter 49
I Gotta Pee You Gotta Pee?
My sister and I have this little thing that we say to each other and it was brought on by a guy that she knows. The story as I know it goes something along the lines of their friend who got put into a mental hospital for a while, and he was normal before he went in and afterward he was pretty much crazy. He always said, “I gotta pee, you gotta pee?” So my sister and I always say it to each other. Well I work with a friend that we have in common and her and him both know this guy, so she told me to say it to him. So today when I was working he walked by so I walked up closer to him and said, “I gotta pee, you gotta pee?” He lost his step and then stopped walking and started to laugh. I told him my sister said he would know what I was talking about. He said he did but he never expected to hear it coming from me. Then he asked me if I knew who it was who said it originally because he worked with us! He then tells me that the guy had actually been asking about me! I asked if it was because he heard me saying his famous statement. The guy said it was probably because he liked me. Yeah, that’s what I need, someone who’s done time in a mental institute. But the thing is, he won’t just tell me who the guy is, he gave me what department he works in but not a name, so I am left wondering which one it is and the only one I can think of is this guy who I thought was pretty cute, but now realizing that he could be the “gotta pee” guy I just don’t know whether to be flattered or to be cautious. Actually, I just want to know what gotta pee was asking, or if this friend was just saying that to get at me, he’s got that kind of personality.
Sadly though, that’s probably the most interesting thing that happened to me today.
However, yesterday was more interesting. I finally received my diploma in the mail! That’s exciting! For a moment I thought that we were going to have a party at my parent’s house, everyone standing around as I opened it. They sent me an “official” copy of my transcript on really nice paper and my dad actually said, “You should make copies”. Even though I graduated college I still saw that I failed Geology once and Geology lab twice! So…why would I want to make copies of that? Also I am still searching for a job. Unfortunately one of the jobs I am looking at seems to be a bit more complex than I believed. Who knew I would have to do brain teasers before being interviewed? And let me tell you, they are hard! They sent me to a website to “practice” and for the life of me I still can’t figure out how some of those worked out! It just seems like too much effort for one job, don’t get me wrong I will pursue it to the bitter end, but come on! Just look at my resume, interview me and say yea or nay! That’s how life used to be right? Sometimes I feel like I will die at the grocery store, not just die of old age, still working there, but I’m talking full out, in my uniform, middle of a shift, keel over and die. At least I will probably have a job for about a month, working at a school. That’s the lead I am on from my sister who is working there. The teacher she works with and her and going to call me tomorrow to talk about it. I don’t really know what that means. But it’s for about 41 days or so, working one on one with a child with disabilities at a school (summer school). It’s better pay than I get at the grocery store, and it’s only Monday through Thursday 8-12. I would still work at the grocery store but at least I would be getting some experience aside from ringing groceries and bagging bread, oh and writing on cakes…I am getting better at that! It’s okay though, I’m not really in that much of a hurry to grow up yet, and getting a normal job would kind of force me to grow up.
I Gotta Pee You Gotta Pee?
My sister and I have this little thing that we say to each other and it was brought on by a guy that she knows. The story as I know it goes something along the lines of their friend who got put into a mental hospital for a while, and he was normal before he went in and afterward he was pretty much crazy. He always said, “I gotta pee, you gotta pee?” So my sister and I always say it to each other. Well I work with a friend that we have in common and her and him both know this guy, so she told me to say it to him. So today when I was working he walked by so I walked up closer to him and said, “I gotta pee, you gotta pee?” He lost his step and then stopped walking and started to laugh. I told him my sister said he would know what I was talking about. He said he did but he never expected to hear it coming from me. Then he asked me if I knew who it was who said it originally because he worked with us! He then tells me that the guy had actually been asking about me! I asked if it was because he heard me saying his famous statement. The guy said it was probably because he liked me. Yeah, that’s what I need, someone who’s done time in a mental institute. But the thing is, he won’t just tell me who the guy is, he gave me what department he works in but not a name, so I am left wondering which one it is and the only one I can think of is this guy who I thought was pretty cute, but now realizing that he could be the “gotta pee” guy I just don’t know whether to be flattered or to be cautious. Actually, I just want to know what gotta pee was asking, or if this friend was just saying that to get at me, he’s got that kind of personality.
Sadly though, that’s probably the most interesting thing that happened to me today.
However, yesterday was more interesting. I finally received my diploma in the mail! That’s exciting! For a moment I thought that we were going to have a party at my parent’s house, everyone standing around as I opened it. They sent me an “official” copy of my transcript on really nice paper and my dad actually said, “You should make copies”. Even though I graduated college I still saw that I failed Geology once and Geology lab twice! So…why would I want to make copies of that? Also I am still searching for a job. Unfortunately one of the jobs I am looking at seems to be a bit more complex than I believed. Who knew I would have to do brain teasers before being interviewed? And let me tell you, they are hard! They sent me to a website to “practice” and for the life of me I still can’t figure out how some of those worked out! It just seems like too much effort for one job, don’t get me wrong I will pursue it to the bitter end, but come on! Just look at my resume, interview me and say yea or nay! That’s how life used to be right? Sometimes I feel like I will die at the grocery store, not just die of old age, still working there, but I’m talking full out, in my uniform, middle of a shift, keel over and die. At least I will probably have a job for about a month, working at a school. That’s the lead I am on from my sister who is working there. The teacher she works with and her and going to call me tomorrow to talk about it. I don’t really know what that means. But it’s for about 41 days or so, working one on one with a child with disabilities at a school (summer school). It’s better pay than I get at the grocery store, and it’s only Monday through Thursday 8-12. I would still work at the grocery store but at least I would be getting some experience aside from ringing groceries and bagging bread, oh and writing on cakes…I am getting better at that! It’s okay though, I’m not really in that much of a hurry to grow up yet, and getting a normal job would kind of force me to grow up.
Chapter 48
New Friends
So last night I finally got to hang out with people my age! Before I did though I knew I would be and I was talking to my sister on the phone and told her that I would be hanging out with my new friends that night, of course, I hadn’t met them, but since they seemed to be semi-permanent fixtures at the house I figured that they were to become my new friends. She liked that idea, knowing they would be your friends before you even meet them. Kind of alleviates the pressure.
So last we went to play laser tag! I have never played before and had wanted to try. Laser tag is located in lovely rundown downtown Richmond. My mom had warned me because believe it or not my mom has played laser tag (and before me…I’m speechless on this issue). So as we are driving down there the sidewalks are filled with the local people. For some reason, running into local people in Idaho Falls, Idaho was cool but here my white, middle class-ness made me itch all over. I had never really thought I would feel like an outsider, that who I was just didn’t fit in with anything to do in this area. I had never thought before how people might perceive me with my Old Navy apparel and my skater shoes. As we got closer to the place where the laser tag was we seemed to cross over into a different kind of downtown, I couldn’t help but think to myself that this was the upper end of downtown. This was the area that was developed for the college kid with money to spend. There was an outdoor rock concert, you had your cafés, the “clean” bars, hoards of white people walking around, and laser tag. I didn’t get to see what else was around, but I knew that this was the hangout for all those kids who grew up with me in the West End.
Laser tag on the other non-political, socially stratified hand, was awesome! I love it! My body is sore today but I would love to play again! We had a group, mostly boys which usually I would like that but last night it felt weird, I was wondering if my roommates ever hang out with girls. Our group was mixed with another group of…I think teenagers, or extremely young looking young adults. They were probably the most fun because I didn’t know them but we would shoot each other or chase each other around and you are wondering, “who the heck is this?” I shot a couple of people from my group, and very much enjoyed a sniper position at certain times. My favorite was when I was so desperate to not get hit but to hit the other person I just put my gun right up to theirs and kept shooting until one of us had been “hit”. They printed out our stats and everything and the best part is, the person that I shot the most is a complete stranger to me and the same person who shot me the most.
I did learn a few things about myself last night, all concerning not becoming a cop. First, I am trigger happy, I would turn a corner and almost run into someone, scream, and shoot, which is why I had shot my roommates at least once, even though we were trying to tag team it. The second is that I am toast on the streets, especially at night; people shot me in the back so much! I guess that’s why they give you all those stats so that you can improve yourself. I did however practice my gun handling skill that I learned from watching so much Law and Order. Have your back to a wall, sneak a quick peek around the corner…clear, turn the corner and do the same at the next opening. Unfortunately there is probably always someone up above you and they are watching, aiming, and more than likely shooting. Dang them.
So after laser tag people came over the house and I was actually feeling pretty sick about then and felt horrible because I hung out for a little minute and then went to the bathroom awaiting my stomach to explode. It didn’t happen so I took a warm shower thinking that it would calm my stomach. It didn’t. I sat in the bathroom for the longest time just trying to stand up without feeling like I would throw up. I finally brushed my teeth, washed my face and came into my room to get my pajamas on; by that time everyone was gone. I curled up in my bed and tried to get comfortable, but I only had one way to lay that helped my stomach, so I stayed in that position until some time this morning.
In my dream right before I woke up I was eating cotton candy with my sister who lives in North Carolina. Currently I still feel sick. In fact, if I think about eating cotton candy I feel like I will throw up and you would think that this thought process would be easy to eliminate since eating cotton candy isn’t usually on someone’s mind. But for some blasted reason it’s all I can think about, so my stomach is here trying to get me to stop and my throat is closing up like I’m ready to spew. I’m trying to think about eating apples instead.
New Friends
So last night I finally got to hang out with people my age! Before I did though I knew I would be and I was talking to my sister on the phone and told her that I would be hanging out with my new friends that night, of course, I hadn’t met them, but since they seemed to be semi-permanent fixtures at the house I figured that they were to become my new friends. She liked that idea, knowing they would be your friends before you even meet them. Kind of alleviates the pressure.
So last we went to play laser tag! I have never played before and had wanted to try. Laser tag is located in lovely rundown downtown Richmond. My mom had warned me because believe it or not my mom has played laser tag (and before me…I’m speechless on this issue). So as we are driving down there the sidewalks are filled with the local people. For some reason, running into local people in Idaho Falls, Idaho was cool but here my white, middle class-ness made me itch all over. I had never really thought I would feel like an outsider, that who I was just didn’t fit in with anything to do in this area. I had never thought before how people might perceive me with my Old Navy apparel and my skater shoes. As we got closer to the place where the laser tag was we seemed to cross over into a different kind of downtown, I couldn’t help but think to myself that this was the upper end of downtown. This was the area that was developed for the college kid with money to spend. There was an outdoor rock concert, you had your cafés, the “clean” bars, hoards of white people walking around, and laser tag. I didn’t get to see what else was around, but I knew that this was the hangout for all those kids who grew up with me in the West End.
Laser tag on the other non-political, socially stratified hand, was awesome! I love it! My body is sore today but I would love to play again! We had a group, mostly boys which usually I would like that but last night it felt weird, I was wondering if my roommates ever hang out with girls. Our group was mixed with another group of…I think teenagers, or extremely young looking young adults. They were probably the most fun because I didn’t know them but we would shoot each other or chase each other around and you are wondering, “who the heck is this?” I shot a couple of people from my group, and very much enjoyed a sniper position at certain times. My favorite was when I was so desperate to not get hit but to hit the other person I just put my gun right up to theirs and kept shooting until one of us had been “hit”. They printed out our stats and everything and the best part is, the person that I shot the most is a complete stranger to me and the same person who shot me the most.
I did learn a few things about myself last night, all concerning not becoming a cop. First, I am trigger happy, I would turn a corner and almost run into someone, scream, and shoot, which is why I had shot my roommates at least once, even though we were trying to tag team it. The second is that I am toast on the streets, especially at night; people shot me in the back so much! I guess that’s why they give you all those stats so that you can improve yourself. I did however practice my gun handling skill that I learned from watching so much Law and Order. Have your back to a wall, sneak a quick peek around the corner…clear, turn the corner and do the same at the next opening. Unfortunately there is probably always someone up above you and they are watching, aiming, and more than likely shooting. Dang them.
So after laser tag people came over the house and I was actually feeling pretty sick about then and felt horrible because I hung out for a little minute and then went to the bathroom awaiting my stomach to explode. It didn’t happen so I took a warm shower thinking that it would calm my stomach. It didn’t. I sat in the bathroom for the longest time just trying to stand up without feeling like I would throw up. I finally brushed my teeth, washed my face and came into my room to get my pajamas on; by that time everyone was gone. I curled up in my bed and tried to get comfortable, but I only had one way to lay that helped my stomach, so I stayed in that position until some time this morning.
In my dream right before I woke up I was eating cotton candy with my sister who lives in North Carolina. Currently I still feel sick. In fact, if I think about eating cotton candy I feel like I will throw up and you would think that this thought process would be easy to eliminate since eating cotton candy isn’t usually on someone’s mind. But for some blasted reason it’s all I can think about, so my stomach is here trying to get me to stop and my throat is closing up like I’m ready to spew. I’m trying to think about eating apples instead.
Friday, July 14, 2006
Chapter 47
The End is At Hand
Last night’s dream involved the end of the world! I can tell you that I almost peed my pants! So Sheri Dew was going to be giving a conference and the day before she told everyone to pay close attention to what she would be saying because it was going to help us change our lives and be better people and that at the end we should exit the auditorium quickly because all the water in all the world was going to freeze and when it did it was going to kill anyone near it because it would shatter and create pretty much shards of glass flying around everywhere. Needless to say I was scared, I had a few hours left to live. So all the next day I was worried about how I was going to get out of the auditorium quickly enough, I was certain there would be a mad rush to do so. Meanwhile though people were making refreshments for after the conference and life seemed to be going on as usual, I began to think that maybe nothing bad was going to happen because everything was still normal and why would she have us all gather in the auditorium if only to trap us? Also she said to pay close attention because what she said would help us change our lives…why bother if we would all die right after? So somehow I ended up not even being in the auditorium and not really paying attention but instead I was selling clothes to an elderly lady, she left me and went into my parents home and saw a weight set that she wanted to buy so she made a deal with my dad. My dad came outside with a receipt that he wrote up saying how much the lady wanted the weights for, and apparently they were mine so I was making some profit. Then I went inside and suddenly was calling Neal A. Maxwell to wish him a Happy Birthday! I don’t personally know Elder Maxwell but I was on the phone with his wife for a bit because he was giving a piano lesson so she and I talked for a bit. Somehow and for some reason we talked about me baking something for them and she called me “sugar” because I baked, not as a term of endearment. So then I was finally able to get Elder Maxwell on the phone and wished him happy birthday.
Then I was in a huge room and was suppose to be teaching a class so I started to talk about the experience with Sheri Dew and her talk and the preparation and realization that we all weren’t going to die, and how that took some faith and yada, yada, yada, how we need to improve our lives because what she was talking about (the ice and death) was going to be coming quickly and in our lifetimes. So then I start taking questions and comments from everyone and Sister Maxwell was in the class and she raised her hand and I went up to her and she said very softly, “Are you Sugar?” and I nodded my head and she grabbed my hand and held it for a second. Then I went back to answering questions and taking comments. It was crazy. The weirdest part is that I was a great teacher! I didn’t have any notes or anything; it was all coming straight out of my head and in perfect timing too.
Oh and some time in the middle of the night I banged my knee against the window sill (not in a dream) and it hurt like the dickens. I have a huge bruise there, and today I have to go to the river…that’s right, I said I have to go to the river. My roommates are determined to hang out with me today and for some reason they like to get into shorts and tank tops, or just their bathing suits and hang out near dirty water. They wanted to go to the beach and I had a way out and I also told her I didn’t like the beach. So they changed plans. I’m hoping they change their minds but part of me knows that they won’t, they are looking forward to this. So I guess I should shave my legs or something to get ready. I hate wearing shorts! Who knew getting me to be a normal summer person would be like pulling teeth? Maybe it’s because all the sun really does is suck the energy out of you and I don’t want to be tired the rest of the day…why do people think this is fun? At the same time I feel bad for these girls, they have no idea what a bum I am. They like the beach, concerts, the river, King’s Dominion, baseball games, and ultimate Frisbee. I don’t like any of those things; it’s going to be a long summer and I am wondering what I have gotten myself into.
The worst, and yet not really the worst part, about being home is the other day I caught myself thinking about moving, maybe back out west which I never thought I would say. But I honestly miss Sweet Pea, and I have been trying to find someone who could even come close to her and no one really compares. I would love to get a real apartment with her; it would be so much fun! I could move too, it’s not a problem, it’s not like I have a promising job here, it’s just a grocery store and I could do that anywhere. In the meantime I could look for something better somewhere else, anywhere else. I’ve already moved out on my own once (granted it hasn’t even been a full week yet) so I could do it again. Besides if I stick around here I only end up building a crush on a 16/17 year old kid and I don’t want to be a pedophile.
I guess I should go get ready to serve my time (oh at the river, not in jail, I’m not acting on this little crush thing).
The End is At Hand
Last night’s dream involved the end of the world! I can tell you that I almost peed my pants! So Sheri Dew was going to be giving a conference and the day before she told everyone to pay close attention to what she would be saying because it was going to help us change our lives and be better people and that at the end we should exit the auditorium quickly because all the water in all the world was going to freeze and when it did it was going to kill anyone near it because it would shatter and create pretty much shards of glass flying around everywhere. Needless to say I was scared, I had a few hours left to live. So all the next day I was worried about how I was going to get out of the auditorium quickly enough, I was certain there would be a mad rush to do so. Meanwhile though people were making refreshments for after the conference and life seemed to be going on as usual, I began to think that maybe nothing bad was going to happen because everything was still normal and why would she have us all gather in the auditorium if only to trap us? Also she said to pay close attention because what she said would help us change our lives…why bother if we would all die right after? So somehow I ended up not even being in the auditorium and not really paying attention but instead I was selling clothes to an elderly lady, she left me and went into my parents home and saw a weight set that she wanted to buy so she made a deal with my dad. My dad came outside with a receipt that he wrote up saying how much the lady wanted the weights for, and apparently they were mine so I was making some profit. Then I went inside and suddenly was calling Neal A. Maxwell to wish him a Happy Birthday! I don’t personally know Elder Maxwell but I was on the phone with his wife for a bit because he was giving a piano lesson so she and I talked for a bit. Somehow and for some reason we talked about me baking something for them and she called me “sugar” because I baked, not as a term of endearment. So then I was finally able to get Elder Maxwell on the phone and wished him happy birthday.
Then I was in a huge room and was suppose to be teaching a class so I started to talk about the experience with Sheri Dew and her talk and the preparation and realization that we all weren’t going to die, and how that took some faith and yada, yada, yada, how we need to improve our lives because what she was talking about (the ice and death) was going to be coming quickly and in our lifetimes. So then I start taking questions and comments from everyone and Sister Maxwell was in the class and she raised her hand and I went up to her and she said very softly, “Are you Sugar?” and I nodded my head and she grabbed my hand and held it for a second. Then I went back to answering questions and taking comments. It was crazy. The weirdest part is that I was a great teacher! I didn’t have any notes or anything; it was all coming straight out of my head and in perfect timing too.
Oh and some time in the middle of the night I banged my knee against the window sill (not in a dream) and it hurt like the dickens. I have a huge bruise there, and today I have to go to the river…that’s right, I said I have to go to the river. My roommates are determined to hang out with me today and for some reason they like to get into shorts and tank tops, or just their bathing suits and hang out near dirty water. They wanted to go to the beach and I had a way out and I also told her I didn’t like the beach. So they changed plans. I’m hoping they change their minds but part of me knows that they won’t, they are looking forward to this. So I guess I should shave my legs or something to get ready. I hate wearing shorts! Who knew getting me to be a normal summer person would be like pulling teeth? Maybe it’s because all the sun really does is suck the energy out of you and I don’t want to be tired the rest of the day…why do people think this is fun? At the same time I feel bad for these girls, they have no idea what a bum I am. They like the beach, concerts, the river, King’s Dominion, baseball games, and ultimate Frisbee. I don’t like any of those things; it’s going to be a long summer and I am wondering what I have gotten myself into.
The worst, and yet not really the worst part, about being home is the other day I caught myself thinking about moving, maybe back out west which I never thought I would say. But I honestly miss Sweet Pea, and I have been trying to find someone who could even come close to her and no one really compares. I would love to get a real apartment with her; it would be so much fun! I could move too, it’s not a problem, it’s not like I have a promising job here, it’s just a grocery store and I could do that anywhere. In the meantime I could look for something better somewhere else, anywhere else. I’ve already moved out on my own once (granted it hasn’t even been a full week yet) so I could do it again. Besides if I stick around here I only end up building a crush on a 16/17 year old kid and I don’t want to be a pedophile.
I guess I should go get ready to serve my time (oh at the river, not in jail, I’m not acting on this little crush thing).
Chapter 46
Teen Spirit
Another weird dream to chalk up on the board. Why do I keep having weird dreams, what is my subconscious trying to tell me? Last night’s dream I felt like I was waking up from a dream and finding myself amongst a lot of extended family. I think it was a funeral for someone. I saw my mom’s cousin and a bunch of people I didn’t recognize but they looked like my mom’s side of the family. Then there was Burrito, and some people who I felt like were my friends and one kid in particular who came up to me when I walked in and hugged me and then continued to hold me like we were dating. I was weirded out because I didn’t really know who this guy was. After the funeral my band of friends went back to a house and there was an old lady there waiting for her nurse, my “boyfriend” was telling me how much he really liked my family and someone who I think was suppose to be my mom was there. The nurse finally came and put granny to bed and then my boyfriend came up to me and I held out my arms to hug him (weird since I still didn’t feel like I knew him) and he hugged me and told me he had to do his homework (I never said this would make sense) and the nurse and her assistant grab a hold of me and take me into the bathroom at my parents house, which is a pretty small bathroom, but when we went in it got bigger! On the way in Burrito was sitting on the arm of the love seat holding two gallon jugs of water and then he fell backwards onto the ground landing on his back with the water still in his arms. I told him to be careful or he’ll crush himself. I went into the bathroom and the nurse and her assistant had me sit on the sink, which was small when I sat on it, but when they told me to lay down it lengthened to fit my whole body on it. They began to examine me and I am wondering why I voluntarily went in with them. I tell them that my boyfriend is probably waiting and they tell me that he has homework that will keep him busy for a while. Then they tell me that what they are about to do is really going to hurt but try not to cry. I think my mind wouldn’t let me figure out what they were doing because suddenly I wasn’t in the room anymore but in the room with my “boyfriend” doing his homework. I came up from behind him and put my arms around his neck and asked him how much more he had to do. He told me he was almost done and then he needed to talk to Jared for an hour (Jared is his roommate…it is strange how in your dreams you just know certain stuff like this) and then he’d be ready to go to bed. I was a little upset because we hadn’t spent any time together all day long, but I didn’t say anything because who wants to be a nagger? So I go lay down in my bed and I don’t feel like I am there long when “boyfriend” walks in with his cell phone and he is closing it, so I figure it’s been an hour and then he comes and sits on my bed and then I woke up. I told you, I have weird dreams.
So on to life I suppose. I just wanted to get that out of the way. So last night I was pretty harsh towards my teenage coworkers. Well, they didn’t know I was being so harsh to them because luckily they can’t read minds, luckily those customers can’t read minds either. I think every cuss word I know ran through my mind at least once last night, mostly when I was thinking badly about my coworkers. I only had one pain in the ass customer who I thought to myself was a very bad word and I wondered that if she was in such a hurry why bother coming at all? All she did was increase the stress level of all those around her. The real problems began as we neared the time for me to go home. Our numbers dwindle every hour we get closer to closing so it’s kind of common sense that if we have any amount of customers that equals out to more than one, baggers cannot double up on a register, there’s just not enough of them to do that. So last night, we were pretty busy, with three registers open and two baggers. One register was express, and while when I am on that register I like when I can have a bagger, I know that when that bagger is needed somewhere else I can handle bagging the orders that come through there. I was on the last register; I had been at work for at least 7 hours, working straight through except for two breaks. But there were barely any pauses between customers, that’s how busy we had been. So when I finished ringing up an order and I start to bag it as well, but there are still things I need to do at the register and I looked up to see that both baggers are barely doing anything because they have tag teamed the next register I begin to get a little pissed. It gets harder for me not to have some sort of biochemical change where I am probably giving off a stress hormone or something, people can usually pick up when my mood changes like that. But I’m a damn martyr when it comes to this type of stuff and can’t just ask one to come bag for me, oh no, I justify getting mad at them, and then when justification is through I blow up at one of them. I didn’t blow up last night, but I do remember yelling very dominantly across the store for one of them to come and take this order out. I hadn’t realize how mad I may have sounded but the cashier in front of me turned around and seemed pretty concerned with whatever tone of voice I was actually using. It didn’t help that I didn’t like either of the baggers working last night. Or that even though I had a huge order building up I would see one or both of them just walk right by me, or that I made eye contact with one of them while they were standing at express doing nothing and I thought he was finally coming over to help, but instead he walked right past me (he was the one I yelled for to take out the order). I was just mad, these kids don’t do squat! One of them even had the nerve to ask me later if everything was ok, apparently it seemed like something was wrong! I told him I was fine and then he was like, “Are you sure? I don’t think it is.” If there hadn’t been customers there I would have probably grabbed his puny neck in my hands and just squeezed, or finally tell him that I think he was doing a terrible job working and why bother continuing to receive paychecks for work he was obviously not doing? He should just quit and let someone who wants to work take his place. I don’t think his fragile little ego could have handled that, but I do think I should use some leverage, this kid always wants a hug from me and I won’t give him one, maybe next time he asks I should say something like, “well, maybe if you actually worked and earned one I would give it to you.” I’ve gotten pretty good at getting the ones with potential to actualize it. There is this one girl who told me that I was a really fast cashier and I told her that I meant to tell her that she did pretty well at bagging for me (which I honestly had been meaning to tell her). Then the other day she said that she just wasn’t fast enough at bagging and I told her that she was one of the better baggers there. She seemed to like that, and the best part is, it’s not a lie. Needless to say she likes to come bag for me. I have noticed however that maybe the reason that so many baggers are slow is because so many of the cashiers are. Why bag quickly if the cashier can’t provide quickly enough? It’s interesting, and now that I just realized what I am typing about and how weird it is of me to be doing so I am going to step away from the computer and stop dwelling on this job like it’s really that important to me.
Teen Spirit
Another weird dream to chalk up on the board. Why do I keep having weird dreams, what is my subconscious trying to tell me? Last night’s dream I felt like I was waking up from a dream and finding myself amongst a lot of extended family. I think it was a funeral for someone. I saw my mom’s cousin and a bunch of people I didn’t recognize but they looked like my mom’s side of the family. Then there was Burrito, and some people who I felt like were my friends and one kid in particular who came up to me when I walked in and hugged me and then continued to hold me like we were dating. I was weirded out because I didn’t really know who this guy was. After the funeral my band of friends went back to a house and there was an old lady there waiting for her nurse, my “boyfriend” was telling me how much he really liked my family and someone who I think was suppose to be my mom was there. The nurse finally came and put granny to bed and then my boyfriend came up to me and I held out my arms to hug him (weird since I still didn’t feel like I knew him) and he hugged me and told me he had to do his homework (I never said this would make sense) and the nurse and her assistant grab a hold of me and take me into the bathroom at my parents house, which is a pretty small bathroom, but when we went in it got bigger! On the way in Burrito was sitting on the arm of the love seat holding two gallon jugs of water and then he fell backwards onto the ground landing on his back with the water still in his arms. I told him to be careful or he’ll crush himself. I went into the bathroom and the nurse and her assistant had me sit on the sink, which was small when I sat on it, but when they told me to lay down it lengthened to fit my whole body on it. They began to examine me and I am wondering why I voluntarily went in with them. I tell them that my boyfriend is probably waiting and they tell me that he has homework that will keep him busy for a while. Then they tell me that what they are about to do is really going to hurt but try not to cry. I think my mind wouldn’t let me figure out what they were doing because suddenly I wasn’t in the room anymore but in the room with my “boyfriend” doing his homework. I came up from behind him and put my arms around his neck and asked him how much more he had to do. He told me he was almost done and then he needed to talk to Jared for an hour (Jared is his roommate…it is strange how in your dreams you just know certain stuff like this) and then he’d be ready to go to bed. I was a little upset because we hadn’t spent any time together all day long, but I didn’t say anything because who wants to be a nagger? So I go lay down in my bed and I don’t feel like I am there long when “boyfriend” walks in with his cell phone and he is closing it, so I figure it’s been an hour and then he comes and sits on my bed and then I woke up. I told you, I have weird dreams.
So on to life I suppose. I just wanted to get that out of the way. So last night I was pretty harsh towards my teenage coworkers. Well, they didn’t know I was being so harsh to them because luckily they can’t read minds, luckily those customers can’t read minds either. I think every cuss word I know ran through my mind at least once last night, mostly when I was thinking badly about my coworkers. I only had one pain in the ass customer who I thought to myself was a very bad word and I wondered that if she was in such a hurry why bother coming at all? All she did was increase the stress level of all those around her. The real problems began as we neared the time for me to go home. Our numbers dwindle every hour we get closer to closing so it’s kind of common sense that if we have any amount of customers that equals out to more than one, baggers cannot double up on a register, there’s just not enough of them to do that. So last night, we were pretty busy, with three registers open and two baggers. One register was express, and while when I am on that register I like when I can have a bagger, I know that when that bagger is needed somewhere else I can handle bagging the orders that come through there. I was on the last register; I had been at work for at least 7 hours, working straight through except for two breaks. But there were barely any pauses between customers, that’s how busy we had been. So when I finished ringing up an order and I start to bag it as well, but there are still things I need to do at the register and I looked up to see that both baggers are barely doing anything because they have tag teamed the next register I begin to get a little pissed. It gets harder for me not to have some sort of biochemical change where I am probably giving off a stress hormone or something, people can usually pick up when my mood changes like that. But I’m a damn martyr when it comes to this type of stuff and can’t just ask one to come bag for me, oh no, I justify getting mad at them, and then when justification is through I blow up at one of them. I didn’t blow up last night, but I do remember yelling very dominantly across the store for one of them to come and take this order out. I hadn’t realize how mad I may have sounded but the cashier in front of me turned around and seemed pretty concerned with whatever tone of voice I was actually using. It didn’t help that I didn’t like either of the baggers working last night. Or that even though I had a huge order building up I would see one or both of them just walk right by me, or that I made eye contact with one of them while they were standing at express doing nothing and I thought he was finally coming over to help, but instead he walked right past me (he was the one I yelled for to take out the order). I was just mad, these kids don’t do squat! One of them even had the nerve to ask me later if everything was ok, apparently it seemed like something was wrong! I told him I was fine and then he was like, “Are you sure? I don’t think it is.” If there hadn’t been customers there I would have probably grabbed his puny neck in my hands and just squeezed, or finally tell him that I think he was doing a terrible job working and why bother continuing to receive paychecks for work he was obviously not doing? He should just quit and let someone who wants to work take his place. I don’t think his fragile little ego could have handled that, but I do think I should use some leverage, this kid always wants a hug from me and I won’t give him one, maybe next time he asks I should say something like, “well, maybe if you actually worked and earned one I would give it to you.” I’ve gotten pretty good at getting the ones with potential to actualize it. There is this one girl who told me that I was a really fast cashier and I told her that I meant to tell her that she did pretty well at bagging for me (which I honestly had been meaning to tell her). Then the other day she said that she just wasn’t fast enough at bagging and I told her that she was one of the better baggers there. She seemed to like that, and the best part is, it’s not a lie. Needless to say she likes to come bag for me. I have noticed however that maybe the reason that so many baggers are slow is because so many of the cashiers are. Why bag quickly if the cashier can’t provide quickly enough? It’s interesting, and now that I just realized what I am typing about and how weird it is of me to be doing so I am going to step away from the computer and stop dwelling on this job like it’s really that important to me.
Chapter 46
Teen Spirit
Another weird dream to chalk up on the board. Why do I keep having weird dreams, what is my subconscious trying to tell me? Last night’s dream I felt like I was waking up from a dream and finding myself amongst a lot of extended family. I think it was a funeral for someone. I saw my mom’s cousin and a bunch of people I didn’t recognize but they looked like my mom’s side of the family. Then there was Burrito, and some people who I felt like were my friends and one kid in particular who came up to me when I walked in and hugged me and then continued to hold me like we were dating. I was weirded out because I didn’t really know who this guy was. After the funeral my band of friends went back to a house and there was an old lady there waiting for her nurse, my “boyfriend” was telling me how much he really liked my family and someone who I think was suppose to be my mom was there. The nurse finally came and put granny to bed and then my boyfriend came up to me and I held out my arms to hug him (weird since I still didn’t feel like I knew him) and he hugged me and told me he had to do his homework (I never said this would make sense) and the nurse and her assistant grab a hold of me and take me into the bathroom at my parents house, which is a pretty small bathroom, but when we went in it got bigger! On the way in Burrito was sitting on the arm of the love seat holding two gallon jugs of water and then he fell backwards onto the ground landing on his back with the water still in his arms. I told him to be careful or he’ll crush himself. I went into the bathroom and the nurse and her assistant had me sit on the sink, which was small when I sat on it, but when they told me to lay down it lengthened to fit my whole body on it. They began to examine me and I am wondering why I voluntarily went in with them. I tell them that my boyfriend is probably waiting and they tell me that he has homework that will keep him busy for a while. Then they tell me that what they are about to do is really going to hurt but try not to cry. I think my mind wouldn’t let me figure out what they were doing because suddenly I wasn’t in the room anymore but in the room with my “boyfriend” doing his homework. I came up from behind him and put my arms around his neck and asked him how much more he had to do. He told me he was almost done and then he needed to talk to Jared for an hour (Jared is his roommate…it is strange how in your dreams you just know certain stuff like this) and then he’d be ready to go to bed. I was a little upset because we hadn’t spent any time together all day long, but I didn’t say anything because who wants to be a nagger? So I go lay down in my bed and I don’t feel like I am there long when “boyfriend” walks in with his cell phone and he is closing it, so I figure it’s been an hour and then he comes and sits on my bed and then I woke up. I told you, I have weird dreams.
So on to life I suppose. I just wanted to get that out of the way. So last night I was pretty harsh towards my teenage coworkers. Well, they didn’t know I was being so harsh to them because luckily they can’t read minds, luckily those customers can’t read minds either. I think every cuss word I know ran through my mind at least once last night, mostly when I was thinking badly about my coworkers. I only had one pain in the ass customer who I thought to myself was a very bad word and I wondered that if she was in such a hurry why bother coming at all? All she did was increase the stress level of all those around her. The real problems began as we neared the time for me to go home. Our numbers dwindle every hour we get closer to closing so it’s kind of common sense that if we have any amount of customers that equals out to more than one, baggers cannot double up on a register, there’s just not enough of them to do that. So last night, we were pretty busy, with three registers open and two baggers. One register was express, and while when I am on that register I like when I can have a bagger, I know that when that bagger is needed somewhere else I can handle bagging the orders that come through there. I was on the last register; I had been at work for at least 7 hours, working straight through except for two breaks. But there were barely any pauses between customers, that’s how busy we had been. So when I finished ringing up an order and I start to bag it as well, but there are still things I need to do at the register and I looked up to see that both baggers are barely doing anything because they have tag teamed the next register I begin to get a little pissed. It gets harder for me not to have some sort of biochemical change where I am probably giving off a stress hormones or something, people can usually pick up when my mood changes like that. But I’m a damn martyr when it comes to this type of stuff and can’t just ask one to come bag for me, oh no, I justify getting mad at them, and then when justification is through I blow up at one of them. I didn’t blow up last night, but I do remember yelling very dominantly across the store for one of them to come and take this order out. I hadn’t realize how mad I may have sounded but the cashier in front of me turned around and seemed pretty concerned with whatever tone of voice I was actually using. It didn’t help that I didn’t like either of the baggers working last night. Or that even though I had a huge order building up I would see one or both of them just walk right by me, or that I made eye contact with one of them while they were standing at express doing nothing and I thought he was finally coming over to help, but instead he walked right past me (he was the one I yelled for to take out the order). I was just mad, these kids don’t do squat! One of them even had the nerve to ask me later if everything was ok, apparently it seemed like something was wrong! I told him I was fine and then he was like, “Are you sure? I don’t think it is.” If there hadn’t been customers there I would have probably grabbed his puny neck in my hands and just squeezed, or finally tell him that I think he was doing a terrible job working and why bother continuing to receive paychecks for work he was obviously not doing? He should just quit and let someone who wants to work take his place. I don’t think his fragile little ego could have handled that, but I do think I should use some leverage, this kid always wants a hug from me and I won’t give him one, maybe next time he asks I should say something like, “well, maybe if you actually worked and earned one I would give it to you.” I’ve gotten pretty good and getting the ones with potential to actualize it. There is this one girl who told me that I was a really fast cashier and I told her that I meant to tell her that she did pretty well at bagging for me (which I honestly had been meaning to tell her). Then the other day she said that she just wasn’t fast enough at bagging and I told her that she was one of the better baggers there. She seemed to like that, and the best part is, it’s not a lie. Needless to say she likes to come bag for me. I have noticed however that maybe the reason that so many baggers are slow is because so many of the cashiers are. Why bag quickly if the cashier can’t provide quickly enough? It’s interesting, and now that I just realized what I am typing about and how weird it is of me to be doing so I am going to step away from the computer and stop dwelling on this job like it’s really that important to me.
Teen Spirit
Another weird dream to chalk up on the board. Why do I keep having weird dreams, what is my subconscious trying to tell me? Last night’s dream I felt like I was waking up from a dream and finding myself amongst a lot of extended family. I think it was a funeral for someone. I saw my mom’s cousin and a bunch of people I didn’t recognize but they looked like my mom’s side of the family. Then there was Burrito, and some people who I felt like were my friends and one kid in particular who came up to me when I walked in and hugged me and then continued to hold me like we were dating. I was weirded out because I didn’t really know who this guy was. After the funeral my band of friends went back to a house and there was an old lady there waiting for her nurse, my “boyfriend” was telling me how much he really liked my family and someone who I think was suppose to be my mom was there. The nurse finally came and put granny to bed and then my boyfriend came up to me and I held out my arms to hug him (weird since I still didn’t feel like I knew him) and he hugged me and told me he had to do his homework (I never said this would make sense) and the nurse and her assistant grab a hold of me and take me into the bathroom at my parents house, which is a pretty small bathroom, but when we went in it got bigger! On the way in Burrito was sitting on the arm of the love seat holding two gallon jugs of water and then he fell backwards onto the ground landing on his back with the water still in his arms. I told him to be careful or he’ll crush himself. I went into the bathroom and the nurse and her assistant had me sit on the sink, which was small when I sat on it, but when they told me to lay down it lengthened to fit my whole body on it. They began to examine me and I am wondering why I voluntarily went in with them. I tell them that my boyfriend is probably waiting and they tell me that he has homework that will keep him busy for a while. Then they tell me that what they are about to do is really going to hurt but try not to cry. I think my mind wouldn’t let me figure out what they were doing because suddenly I wasn’t in the room anymore but in the room with my “boyfriend” doing his homework. I came up from behind him and put my arms around his neck and asked him how much more he had to do. He told me he was almost done and then he needed to talk to Jared for an hour (Jared is his roommate…it is strange how in your dreams you just know certain stuff like this) and then he’d be ready to go to bed. I was a little upset because we hadn’t spent any time together all day long, but I didn’t say anything because who wants to be a nagger? So I go lay down in my bed and I don’t feel like I am there long when “boyfriend” walks in with his cell phone and he is closing it, so I figure it’s been an hour and then he comes and sits on my bed and then I woke up. I told you, I have weird dreams.
So on to life I suppose. I just wanted to get that out of the way. So last night I was pretty harsh towards my teenage coworkers. Well, they didn’t know I was being so harsh to them because luckily they can’t read minds, luckily those customers can’t read minds either. I think every cuss word I know ran through my mind at least once last night, mostly when I was thinking badly about my coworkers. I only had one pain in the ass customer who I thought to myself was a very bad word and I wondered that if she was in such a hurry why bother coming at all? All she did was increase the stress level of all those around her. The real problems began as we neared the time for me to go home. Our numbers dwindle every hour we get closer to closing so it’s kind of common sense that if we have any amount of customers that equals out to more than one, baggers cannot double up on a register, there’s just not enough of them to do that. So last night, we were pretty busy, with three registers open and two baggers. One register was express, and while when I am on that register I like when I can have a bagger, I know that when that bagger is needed somewhere else I can handle bagging the orders that come through there. I was on the last register; I had been at work for at least 7 hours, working straight through except for two breaks. But there were barely any pauses between customers, that’s how busy we had been. So when I finished ringing up an order and I start to bag it as well, but there are still things I need to do at the register and I looked up to see that both baggers are barely doing anything because they have tag teamed the next register I begin to get a little pissed. It gets harder for me not to have some sort of biochemical change where I am probably giving off a stress hormones or something, people can usually pick up when my mood changes like that. But I’m a damn martyr when it comes to this type of stuff and can’t just ask one to come bag for me, oh no, I justify getting mad at them, and then when justification is through I blow up at one of them. I didn’t blow up last night, but I do remember yelling very dominantly across the store for one of them to come and take this order out. I hadn’t realize how mad I may have sounded but the cashier in front of me turned around and seemed pretty concerned with whatever tone of voice I was actually using. It didn’t help that I didn’t like either of the baggers working last night. Or that even though I had a huge order building up I would see one or both of them just walk right by me, or that I made eye contact with one of them while they were standing at express doing nothing and I thought he was finally coming over to help, but instead he walked right past me (he was the one I yelled for to take out the order). I was just mad, these kids don’t do squat! One of them even had the nerve to ask me later if everything was ok, apparently it seemed like something was wrong! I told him I was fine and then he was like, “Are you sure? I don’t think it is.” If there hadn’t been customers there I would have probably grabbed his puny neck in my hands and just squeezed, or finally tell him that I think he was doing a terrible job working and why bother continuing to receive paychecks for work he was obviously not doing? He should just quit and let someone who wants to work take his place. I don’t think his fragile little ego could have handled that, but I do think I should use some leverage, this kid always wants a hug from me and I won’t give him one, maybe next time he asks I should say something like, “well, maybe if you actually worked and earned one I would give it to you.” I’ve gotten pretty good and getting the ones with potential to actualize it. There is this one girl who told me that I was a really fast cashier and I told her that I meant to tell her that she did pretty well at bagging for me (which I honestly had been meaning to tell her). Then the other day she said that she just wasn’t fast enough at bagging and I told her that she was one of the better baggers there. She seemed to like that, and the best part is, it’s not a lie. Needless to say she likes to come bag for me. I have noticed however that maybe the reason that so many baggers are slow is because so many of the cashiers are. Why bag quickly if the cashier can’t provide quickly enough? It’s interesting, and now that I just realized what I am typing about and how weird it is of me to be doing so I am going to step away from the computer and stop dwelling on this job like it’s really that important to me.
Chapter 45
Buddy Syndrome
Waking up in a place you’ve never woken up in before is an odd feeling. Living in a place you’ve never lived before is an odd feeling too; I’ve done both many times. Today is my first official day in my new “home”. I moved in my stuff (most of it) yesterday and slept here last night. But this place is permanent, well, permanent compared to my life for the last five years. This place is mine, it’s my furniture, it’s actually nice, I have a landlady not a manager, I don’t share a bathroom (it’s all mine), and I don’t have a contract. I can live here as long as I want to. And even though there is the possibility of waking up one morning with a possum chilling in my room or a spider cricket jumping in my face, I think I’m happy to be here. I like the room a lot and now I just have to get used to the roommates and the social life. One roommate talked to me for close to two hours last night! I was really tired, I had been up since before 6:30 and sleep before that had been fitful so I had trouble keeping my eyes open or my thoughts focused, but I did hear everything she said, and you know what? I think she’s cool. Even though I was dead tired it may have been the right thing to hang out in the kitchen for two hours.
Talking to someone who is so open and for so long kind of makes you open up. I warned her that I am an impulsive liar, but how it is never meant to deceive and if I feel like it’s worth fixing I fix it. I also told her that I am looking for a rare kind of guy, one just like my dad. Which got me going about my dad and how great he is, even with his shortcomings and how I also realize that they just don’t make them like they used to.
From her I have figured out that guys all across the country are the same. Moving won’t change the fact of if you date or not, because you will always gravitate to the same type of people. Once you are branded “the buddy” you will always be “the buddy”. Boys just can’t look at you as anything else probably because after so long you can’t see yourself as anything else. Labeling Theory 101, you take on the label which you are given. You become the person that people at one point perceived you to be and therefore you have a difficult time breaking away from that label. Because breaking away from being “the buddy” will take a very strong person, someone who will stick in there and help you see that you are attractive, and that guys can see you beyond being just a friend. However, “Buddy Breakers” are also a rarity, more rare than a fat kid who doesn’t want to eat any cake.
Another thing that my roommate brought up is why do we always go for the wrong people? Probably something to do with the part of the brain that keeps us from putting our foot down and just saying no to buddies. Wires are crossed up there in the brain; we want people we can’t have probably to protect ourselves from venturing out of our buddy skin into a world that we have probably never experienced. Going for the wrong person allows us to tie a cord around our waist that connects us to buddy land so that whether or not something happens with Mr. Wrong we can still find safety in the world we know so well, and until we return we can have fun with the safety of never really having left. I think that every girl stuck in Buddy land should find that boy that placed her there in the first place, the boy that could still go on and be in healthy (or maybe unhealthy) relationships why you continued to be the best friend to your crush and hear him talk about a girl he is in love with who has never even been in buddy land, not even for a vacation. You should find that boy and you should make him pay for the years of your life that he has wasted because he put you there. If the men don’t step up we will have to start pulling ourselves out of buddy land and I can’t imagine it’s going to be an easy thing to do.
Buddy Syndrome
Waking up in a place you’ve never woken up in before is an odd feeling. Living in a place you’ve never lived before is an odd feeling too; I’ve done both many times. Today is my first official day in my new “home”. I moved in my stuff (most of it) yesterday and slept here last night. But this place is permanent, well, permanent compared to my life for the last five years. This place is mine, it’s my furniture, it’s actually nice, I have a landlady not a manager, I don’t share a bathroom (it’s all mine), and I don’t have a contract. I can live here as long as I want to. And even though there is the possibility of waking up one morning with a possum chilling in my room or a spider cricket jumping in my face, I think I’m happy to be here. I like the room a lot and now I just have to get used to the roommates and the social life. One roommate talked to me for close to two hours last night! I was really tired, I had been up since before 6:30 and sleep before that had been fitful so I had trouble keeping my eyes open or my thoughts focused, but I did hear everything she said, and you know what? I think she’s cool. Even though I was dead tired it may have been the right thing to hang out in the kitchen for two hours.
Talking to someone who is so open and for so long kind of makes you open up. I warned her that I am an impulsive liar, but how it is never meant to deceive and if I feel like it’s worth fixing I fix it. I also told her that I am looking for a rare kind of guy, one just like my dad. Which got me going about my dad and how great he is, even with his shortcomings and how I also realize that they just don’t make them like they used to.
From her I have figured out that guys all across the country are the same. Moving won’t change the fact of if you date or not, because you will always gravitate to the same type of people. Once you are branded “the buddy” you will always be “the buddy”. Boys just can’t look at you as anything else probably because after so long you can’t see yourself as anything else. Labeling Theory 101, you take on the label which you are given. You become the person that people at one point perceived you to be and therefore you have a difficult time breaking away from that label. Because breaking away from being “the buddy” will take a very strong person, someone who will stick in there and help you see that you are attractive, and that guys can see you beyond being just a friend. However, “Buddy Breakers” are also a rarity, more rare than a fat kid who doesn’t want to eat any cake.
Another thing that my roommate brought up is why do we always go for the wrong people? Probably something to do with the part of the brain that keeps us from putting our foot down and just saying no to buddies. Wires are crossed up there in the brain; we want people we can’t have probably to protect ourselves from venturing out of our buddy skin into a world that we have probably never experienced. Going for the wrong person allows us to tie a cord around our waist that connects us to buddy land so that whether or not something happens with Mr. Wrong we can still find safety in the world we know so well, and until we return we can have fun with the safety of never really having left. I think that every girl stuck in Buddy land should find that boy that placed her there in the first place, the boy that could still go on and be in healthy (or maybe unhealthy) relationships why you continued to be the best friend to your crush and hear him talk about a girl he is in love with who has never even been in buddy land, not even for a vacation. You should find that boy and you should make him pay for the years of your life that he has wasted because he put you there. If the men don’t step up we will have to start pulling ourselves out of buddy land and I can’t imagine it’s going to be an easy thing to do.
Chapter 44
These ties that bind us
So to start, I have been having extremely weird dreams lately, no surprise to you I know, because it seems like I am always writing that I am having weird dreams. Worlds collide usually and this time it was two completely different worlds, a fictional world of television detectives and an imaginary world full of people that I have never even seen before (like a boy being interested in me). There’s death, romance, suspense, it has it all except a clear plot line. And the fact that I can’t really remember everything, but I was shot at and it wasn’t because I didn’t get away before but I had to go and make sure my new boyfriend got out of the room before I took off running, which he thought was really sweet that I would risk my life just to make sure he was okay. It’s the stuff gags are made of. Anyway, there was more, but it doesn’t make sense to me and I’m not sure if that’s because it just didn’t make sense or if I can’t remember the part that helps me make sense of it all.
So on to what I wanted to write about.
Being at home makes me realize a couple of things and I don’t know if other people notice this stuff too or if I’m just screwed up. But I have realized that I will be getting older, and I will get wrinkles, I will have to take care of my finances and there won’t always be someone to take care of me. I’ve realized that my parents will die, and even though I don’t think it will be for at least 50 more years (an implausible amount of time I’m sure) it really could be any day, because it doesn’t just have to be their health failing. Bad things happen everyday and who is to say it won’t happen to my parents? Everyone loses their parents, why do I think I’m so damn special? Or me for that matter, I could get a real tumor someday and actually would never know about it because I don’t like doctors. I have also realized that as the band Lit put into lyrical form, I am my own worst enemy. I am self-destructive in every form and area of my life. I am pretty much killing myself but I can’t change, I mean, I can, but it’s going to take more work than I want to bother with right now. I’m not social, and I am hoping that it will change when I move into my new house with three very socially active young ladies. I am in my pajamas by 9 pm unless I had to work later than that and in bed and asleep by midnight. I have completely caught up with “Law and Order SVU” and am now working on “House”. I like a 16 year old for Pete’s sake so if that doesn’t shout self-destructive then I don’t know what does!
Wow, none of that was the point of this chapter. The point was, which will sound random since I digressed, was that being at home I have realized why I fear marriage. It’s my mother. I know, everyone blames their mother for everything because we are a sack of pussies who can’t just place the blame where it really belongs and our number one nurturer through our youth must be the one to blame because if she had just come to my fourth grade play everything would be better. I would be a healthy productive adult instead of a 17 year old in a 23 year-old’s body. But no, I really am over the fourth grade play, I have even talked to her about it in a joking manner and that’s when you know you are over it. I know for a fact that these problems are due to my mother, and she didn’t mean to screw me up. But I am the youngest and apparently that made me the child that my mother told everything to. I became her best friend, the one that she told that she was contemplating leaving my dad if it weren’t for me being so young (she told me this when I was “so young”, probably elementary school). I mean that could scar a child. She still does it though, she complains about my dad to me. She loves my dad, don’t get me wrong, but sometimes it might be best not to tell the children when you are annoyed with the other donating component of their DNA. She tells me all the little things that he does that bug her, you’d think after 30+ years of marriage she would have just learned that that is how he is. He doesn’t always hear what you say, I don’t know if it’s because he didn’t want to hear it or not, but hell, I know that after 23 years, she’s been with him for 36 years, maybe it’s because half of me is him that I can see and forgive this more easily. My mom makes life after marriage seem like something simply to be endured and not enjoyed. Again, I know they love each other, but I don’t see enough of that, I mostly just have my mom’s one side of the story. I have never heard my dad complain about my mom. My fear is not marrying someone like my dad, my fear is becoming someone like my mom. My dad is a great guy, who puts up with her shortcomings, he is probably one of the last guys who can remodel a house by himself (over a long period of time, but seriously, how many guys spend endless Saturdays working on bricking the driveway?). Is it a woman’s fate to become a nagging bitch no matter how good she’s got it? I didn’t just call my mother a bitch by the way, just what women become. Sometimes I feel like women are looking for a type of romance that only truly exist within movies but not in real life and it is tainting the way they see their own marriages and relationships. It is keeping them from really becoming happy. And in turn is keeping me from becoming happy.
These ties that bind us
So to start, I have been having extremely weird dreams lately, no surprise to you I know, because it seems like I am always writing that I am having weird dreams. Worlds collide usually and this time it was two completely different worlds, a fictional world of television detectives and an imaginary world full of people that I have never even seen before (like a boy being interested in me). There’s death, romance, suspense, it has it all except a clear plot line. And the fact that I can’t really remember everything, but I was shot at and it wasn’t because I didn’t get away before but I had to go and make sure my new boyfriend got out of the room before I took off running, which he thought was really sweet that I would risk my life just to make sure he was okay. It’s the stuff gags are made of. Anyway, there was more, but it doesn’t make sense to me and I’m not sure if that’s because it just didn’t make sense or if I can’t remember the part that helps me make sense of it all.
So on to what I wanted to write about.
Being at home makes me realize a couple of things and I don’t know if other people notice this stuff too or if I’m just screwed up. But I have realized that I will be getting older, and I will get wrinkles, I will have to take care of my finances and there won’t always be someone to take care of me. I’ve realized that my parents will die, and even though I don’t think it will be for at least 50 more years (an implausible amount of time I’m sure) it really could be any day, because it doesn’t just have to be their health failing. Bad things happen everyday and who is to say it won’t happen to my parents? Everyone loses their parents, why do I think I’m so damn special? Or me for that matter, I could get a real tumor someday and actually would never know about it because I don’t like doctors. I have also realized that as the band Lit put into lyrical form, I am my own worst enemy. I am self-destructive in every form and area of my life. I am pretty much killing myself but I can’t change, I mean, I can, but it’s going to take more work than I want to bother with right now. I’m not social, and I am hoping that it will change when I move into my new house with three very socially active young ladies. I am in my pajamas by 9 pm unless I had to work later than that and in bed and asleep by midnight. I have completely caught up with “Law and Order SVU” and am now working on “House”. I like a 16 year old for Pete’s sake so if that doesn’t shout self-destructive then I don’t know what does!
Wow, none of that was the point of this chapter. The point was, which will sound random since I digressed, was that being at home I have realized why I fear marriage. It’s my mother. I know, everyone blames their mother for everything because we are a sack of pussies who can’t just place the blame where it really belongs and our number one nurturer through our youth must be the one to blame because if she had just come to my fourth grade play everything would be better. I would be a healthy productive adult instead of a 17 year old in a 23 year-old’s body. But no, I really am over the fourth grade play, I have even talked to her about it in a joking manner and that’s when you know you are over it. I know for a fact that these problems are due to my mother, and she didn’t mean to screw me up. But I am the youngest and apparently that made me the child that my mother told everything to. I became her best friend, the one that she told that she was contemplating leaving my dad if it weren’t for me being so young (she told me this when I was “so young”, probably elementary school). I mean that could scar a child. She still does it though, she complains about my dad to me. She loves my dad, don’t get me wrong, but sometimes it might be best not to tell the children when you are annoyed with the other donating component of their DNA. She tells me all the little things that he does that bug her, you’d think after 30+ years of marriage she would have just learned that that is how he is. He doesn’t always hear what you say, I don’t know if it’s because he didn’t want to hear it or not, but hell, I know that after 23 years, she’s been with him for 36 years, maybe it’s because half of me is him that I can see and forgive this more easily. My mom makes life after marriage seem like something simply to be endured and not enjoyed. Again, I know they love each other, but I don’t see enough of that, I mostly just have my mom’s one side of the story. I have never heard my dad complain about my mom. My fear is not marrying someone like my dad, my fear is becoming someone like my mom. My dad is a great guy, who puts up with her shortcomings, he is probably one of the last guys who can remodel a house by himself (over a long period of time, but seriously, how many guys spend endless Saturdays working on bricking the driveway?). Is it a woman’s fate to become a nagging bitch no matter how good she’s got it? I didn’t just call my mother a bitch by the way, just what women become. Sometimes I feel like women are looking for a type of romance that only truly exist within movies but not in real life and it is tainting the way they see their own marriages and relationships. It is keeping them from really becoming happy. And in turn is keeping me from becoming happy.
Chapter 43
Potato Chips are No Place for a Fierce Warrior
I’ve wanted to use that title for a while and now I feel a bit obligated to write about The Warrior (one of the kids from work). Oh lucky him, a whole chapter devoted to him, well, actually I’m pretty sure I will digress some, starting now.
Yesterday was my second day in the bakery. I certainly hope they don’t try to pull me over there full time. I like helping out every once in a while but I am not some sports player to be traded around by the owner’s. I have rights. I was hesitant about returning to the bakery since on my first visit I heard repeatedly that I know nothing. It was directed to my face, but it was told to managers and others while I was standing right there. I finally said something to the girl who kept saying it, how it was lowering my self-esteem. She told me she didn’t mean it like that, but understood that it was probably coming out the wrong way. So she was paranoid yesterday that I was not happy to be there. I explained that I had pretty much just woken up. I caught on quickly once they started to treat me like a creature capable of learning. I even figured out the elusive label machine that apparently, not too many of our bright young stars catch on to. After that life in the bakery was a lot better. In fact they even tried to hint at wanting me to come back to the bakery to one of my managers who gave her a look and said, “She’s our best cashier.” Translation, “hell no, she’s ours.” I knew that manager wouldn’t let any other department get their claws into me. Anyway, back to the topic I suppose.
So the Warrior is called “The Warrior” because last week we were working and it turns out when he is bored he draws, not elaborate or anything. He had two armies preparing to battle against each other and the people were just dots. I drew a picture of us verses “the man” as stick figures and throwing soup and soda cans and rolling “Big Papa” which is what Warrior calls the watermelons we sell. (side note: My manager found my drawing and stood by my register as he asked me who the man was…I assured him that it was him). So because of these drawings when I left work on Tuesday (the first bakery day) I went to his register before I left and drew a stick figure with a knife in hand and wrote his name and called him the fierce warrior. So therefore he is now the warrior. Yesterday when I was working he came through the bakery and was upset, asking if I was in bakery again. Fortunately for him he gets to work with me on Saturday…that should make him happy. I was thinking about it though, when I boil down time I have been home for three weeks, working all three but the first week I worked mornings and was gone way before they got there. Then I have barely worked with them in the past two weeks. This past week only giving me two nights (and one of them wasn’t late) and then the week before…when did we have time to become friends? I’m not complaining, I just put myself in a time check and it turns out I haven’t been here that long but the fact that these kids already like me after maybe seeing me a total of 6 or 7 days in their lives makes me feel like I have been home a whole lot longer.
It’s funny to think that I will be leaving them, I don’t know when, but I am looking for a “career” job. When that comes along I will be taking it and leaving the grocery store. Maybe not all at once, but I will slowly break away. The more comfortable I get with my new job the more I’ll pull away from this one. How I’ll miss my little friends.
Potato Chips are No Place for a Fierce Warrior
I’ve wanted to use that title for a while and now I feel a bit obligated to write about The Warrior (one of the kids from work). Oh lucky him, a whole chapter devoted to him, well, actually I’m pretty sure I will digress some, starting now.
Yesterday was my second day in the bakery. I certainly hope they don’t try to pull me over there full time. I like helping out every once in a while but I am not some sports player to be traded around by the owner’s. I have rights. I was hesitant about returning to the bakery since on my first visit I heard repeatedly that I know nothing. It was directed to my face, but it was told to managers and others while I was standing right there. I finally said something to the girl who kept saying it, how it was lowering my self-esteem. She told me she didn’t mean it like that, but understood that it was probably coming out the wrong way. So she was paranoid yesterday that I was not happy to be there. I explained that I had pretty much just woken up. I caught on quickly once they started to treat me like a creature capable of learning. I even figured out the elusive label machine that apparently, not too many of our bright young stars catch on to. After that life in the bakery was a lot better. In fact they even tried to hint at wanting me to come back to the bakery to one of my managers who gave her a look and said, “She’s our best cashier.” Translation, “hell no, she’s ours.” I knew that manager wouldn’t let any other department get their claws into me. Anyway, back to the topic I suppose.
So the Warrior is called “The Warrior” because last week we were working and it turns out when he is bored he draws, not elaborate or anything. He had two armies preparing to battle against each other and the people were just dots. I drew a picture of us verses “the man” as stick figures and throwing soup and soda cans and rolling “Big Papa” which is what Warrior calls the watermelons we sell. (side note: My manager found my drawing and stood by my register as he asked me who the man was…I assured him that it was him). So because of these drawings when I left work on Tuesday (the first bakery day) I went to his register before I left and drew a stick figure with a knife in hand and wrote his name and called him the fierce warrior. So therefore he is now the warrior. Yesterday when I was working he came through the bakery and was upset, asking if I was in bakery again. Fortunately for him he gets to work with me on Saturday…that should make him happy. I was thinking about it though, when I boil down time I have been home for three weeks, working all three but the first week I worked mornings and was gone way before they got there. Then I have barely worked with them in the past two weeks. This past week only giving me two nights (and one of them wasn’t late) and then the week before…when did we have time to become friends? I’m not complaining, I just put myself in a time check and it turns out I haven’t been here that long but the fact that these kids already like me after maybe seeing me a total of 6 or 7 days in their lives makes me feel like I have been home a whole lot longer.
It’s funny to think that I will be leaving them, I don’t know when, but I am looking for a “career” job. When that comes along I will be taking it and leaving the grocery store. Maybe not all at once, but I will slowly break away. The more comfortable I get with my new job the more I’ll pull away from this one. How I’ll miss my little friends.
Chapter 42
What Else floats in water?
I thought of an example that might help you understand why I don’t really like talking to Gus-Gus. I was on break today and he happened to be on his break at the same time and I pulled out my book and I have a picture for a bookmark, he picks up the picture and said, “What’s this.” Then he sees that it’s just a picture of trees and he said, “It’s not an X-rated picture of you?” I didn’t know what to say, so I finally just said, “I don’t bring those pictures to work with me”. Then I told him there were no pictures like that. Also he stands too close to me and I don’t know if it’s obvious to him but it sure as hell is obvious to me that I don’t want him to even touch me. I mean, contorting my body in unnatural ways just to avoid physical contact should show him something. Maybe I’m too nice to people, (hard to believe I know) and therefore they think I care. Then I got cornered by him and this kid at work, I don’t know what they wanted but I was literally cornered and jokingly freaked out that I was surrounded (this is me being nice while at the same time giving out a cry for help). I finally got out of it and walked to the safety zone where my new friend, who I will call Baby-Face, was.
Baby-Face is one of the only saving graces of having to work at night. I look forward to when he comes in, along with The Warrior, another one of the teenage boys at work, my only question is, why weren’t the boys I worked with when I was in high school this fun? There was much more drama when I was in high school. It was probably me because I was so drama. They are awesome, and they really like me, I feel at times like I have a fan club. Yesterday I was working in the Bakery and there were about 4 of these boys who were all upset that I wasn’t going to be working with them. I just don’t know what to do with all the attention. I mean, I joke that I am cool, but I don’t ever actually think that I am! The more that people like you the easier it is to like them back. I mean, they have to have good taste in friends. I also find that I am very protective of these boys, the ones who are my favorites; there are maybe three or four of them. Today one of the other guys, one that I am warming up to, but I doubt he’ll become a favorite, pushed a cart into the back of Baby Face’s ankles. It was playful, if it hadn’t I would have kicked some ass, but I leaned in to Baby Face and said, “Do you want me to take care of him? I know a guy.” He thanked me for the offer but said he’ll beat the kid up after work.
So I found out that Gus-Gus smoked a lot of pot in high school (this explains a whole lot about him), this places me on a moral high ground and I told him so. He didn’t believe that I never “experimented”. The jack ass that started to tell teenagers it was okay to experiment with drugs and sex was just some damn hippie trying to make himself feel better about wasting his youth and barely being able to speak or urinate properly. Misery loves company. Baby Face thought I smoked and the kid who cornered me thought that I must have gotten drunk at least once in my life. I’m glad that everyone assumes crap about me that is completely false. I was able to get the record straight, well, at least on the smoking charges with Baby Face. It turns out that Gus-Gus and Gus-Gus Jr. don’t know how to handle the fact that maybe not everyone wants to fry their brains and have hangovers.
Meanwhile Baby Face has a bad memory of when we first met, apparently I came in and took over an order he was working on and then took the cart from him. I don’t remember ever doing that but to save myself from falling out of his good graces I apologized and now every time that we have an order together we try to decide who will take the cart according to certain criteria. Who was there first, who asked bagging preference first, and which of us better deserves to just go outside.
I know what you are thinking…I need help, yeah, I was thinking it too…hope it comes soon.
What Else floats in water?
I thought of an example that might help you understand why I don’t really like talking to Gus-Gus. I was on break today and he happened to be on his break at the same time and I pulled out my book and I have a picture for a bookmark, he picks up the picture and said, “What’s this.” Then he sees that it’s just a picture of trees and he said, “It’s not an X-rated picture of you?” I didn’t know what to say, so I finally just said, “I don’t bring those pictures to work with me”. Then I told him there were no pictures like that. Also he stands too close to me and I don’t know if it’s obvious to him but it sure as hell is obvious to me that I don’t want him to even touch me. I mean, contorting my body in unnatural ways just to avoid physical contact should show him something. Maybe I’m too nice to people, (hard to believe I know) and therefore they think I care. Then I got cornered by him and this kid at work, I don’t know what they wanted but I was literally cornered and jokingly freaked out that I was surrounded (this is me being nice while at the same time giving out a cry for help). I finally got out of it and walked to the safety zone where my new friend, who I will call Baby-Face, was.
Baby-Face is one of the only saving graces of having to work at night. I look forward to when he comes in, along with The Warrior, another one of the teenage boys at work, my only question is, why weren’t the boys I worked with when I was in high school this fun? There was much more drama when I was in high school. It was probably me because I was so drama. They are awesome, and they really like me, I feel at times like I have a fan club. Yesterday I was working in the Bakery and there were about 4 of these boys who were all upset that I wasn’t going to be working with them. I just don’t know what to do with all the attention. I mean, I joke that I am cool, but I don’t ever actually think that I am! The more that people like you the easier it is to like them back. I mean, they have to have good taste in friends. I also find that I am very protective of these boys, the ones who are my favorites; there are maybe three or four of them. Today one of the other guys, one that I am warming up to, but I doubt he’ll become a favorite, pushed a cart into the back of Baby Face’s ankles. It was playful, if it hadn’t I would have kicked some ass, but I leaned in to Baby Face and said, “Do you want me to take care of him? I know a guy.” He thanked me for the offer but said he’ll beat the kid up after work.
So I found out that Gus-Gus smoked a lot of pot in high school (this explains a whole lot about him), this places me on a moral high ground and I told him so. He didn’t believe that I never “experimented”. The jack ass that started to tell teenagers it was okay to experiment with drugs and sex was just some damn hippie trying to make himself feel better about wasting his youth and barely being able to speak or urinate properly. Misery loves company. Baby Face thought I smoked and the kid who cornered me thought that I must have gotten drunk at least once in my life. I’m glad that everyone assumes crap about me that is completely false. I was able to get the record straight, well, at least on the smoking charges with Baby Face. It turns out that Gus-Gus and Gus-Gus Jr. don’t know how to handle the fact that maybe not everyone wants to fry their brains and have hangovers.
Meanwhile Baby Face has a bad memory of when we first met, apparently I came in and took over an order he was working on and then took the cart from him. I don’t remember ever doing that but to save myself from falling out of his good graces I apologized and now every time that we have an order together we try to decide who will take the cart according to certain criteria. Who was there first, who asked bagging preference first, and which of us better deserves to just go outside.
I know what you are thinking…I need help, yeah, I was thinking it too…hope it comes soon.
Chapter 41
Hell Hath No Fury
I have this one manager at work, who I will call Gus-Gus, because he kind of reminds me of Gus Gus from Cinderella. This manager, how do I describe him? He’s thirty something, probably never had a girlfriend, he’s got something wrong with him (honestly, but I don’t know what it is), and he’s pissing me off. I have never really gotten along with Gus-Gus, but I have tried, not because I am a kiss-up but because I try to be nice to people’s faces (thank goodness for this little do-dad so that I can vent). He’s one of those conversationalists that leaves you feeling uncomfortable if you know what I mean, and he’s also one of those people that I would prefer to never touch me. So now that I have described him a bit I need to give you background so you’ll understand the situation. Otherwise, going into a full on vent won’t mean much. So a couple of chapters earlier I mentioned Maps and how we had our list of demands. The manager that was mentioned then was Gus-Gus. I didn’t give him a name at the time because I didn’t think he would be back in here long enough to need one. Anyway, that should pretty much set things up for my vent.
So yesterday when I was at work I had a customer who wanted to get $10 in quarters back with her change, and since we usually only have $10 in quarters or less at the register at any given time I decided to call Andy and get him working on getting the quarters for me before I was finished with the lady’s transaction. I thought it was a pretty smart idea. So I called him and told him I needed quarters. He kind of laughed or something and then he said something about “we’ll see”. I thought he was kidding and assumed he was going to get the quarters but I looked over and he was just standing there like a brainless idiot staring off into space. I finished the transaction with the lady, finally giving her a ten dollar bill and she went to the bank to get quarters, why? Because my manager is a jackass, that’s why! He never got the freaking quarters. He stumbled around in the darkness of his stupidity until it got so busy that he wouldn’t have time to go get the quarters! When Maps had complained earlier I wrote it on the list, but thought it was just something he did to her. Apparently his likes to piss off the more pivotal characters of the workplace. (I don’t call myself a pivotal character because of an oversized ego, it’s just that Maps and I are cashiers who work a mix of nights and mornings, we work hard, and little does he know, we are the leaders of the new workers union). If this were survivor and I had to pick someone to kick out of the store he would be first on my list.
I watched him the rest of the day and wondered what value does he hold for this place? And why in heaven’s name did they make him a manager? He’s not good at it, I could do a better job than him. In fact, I noticed that he’s not good at a lot of things that we need to do at work. He can’t cashier worth crap, and he doesn’t bag! He walks right by a register as though we weren’t slammed and in desperate need of every person bagging and he goes and colors! He really does color, he has the manager card which tells him everyone is working and has when their breaks should be and he colors through the people who have already left. He is my superior? I don’t think so, he does less work than the rock stuck in my shoe, he gets paid to do nothing! I don’t feel sorry for him because of whatever is wrong with his him (I told you something honestly was, some physical impairment). I think someone feeling sorry for him is the only reason he is a manager, and sometimes I wonder if he is really even a manager. I mean on the books, is he really a manager or just some guy that they gave a little raise to, a white button up shirt instead of the polo I wear, and let’s have the card. He doesn’t do anything I couldn’t do if they just gave me a stupid card to swipe when the register is being an ass and won’t let me do my work. You just hit a button and swipe the card, I learned that my first week as a cashier.
So the rest of the day was spent thinking how I could get him fired, or at least transferred or demoted. For a while I thought I had enough influence to do so, but I gave myself a humility check and reminded myself that I am not as great and superior as I have been led to believe. However, while writing this though I realized that I could be a manager easy. Maybe it’s time to see if I can be promoted or something, what do I have to lose? The great guidance of Gus-Gus? Being treated like I don’t know anything about being a cashier (even though I have done it for at least 6 years at three different stores)? It’s either that or call in a favor and have Gus-Gus removed…permanently.
Hell Hath No Fury
I have this one manager at work, who I will call Gus-Gus, because he kind of reminds me of Gus Gus from Cinderella. This manager, how do I describe him? He’s thirty something, probably never had a girlfriend, he’s got something wrong with him (honestly, but I don’t know what it is), and he’s pissing me off. I have never really gotten along with Gus-Gus, but I have tried, not because I am a kiss-up but because I try to be nice to people’s faces (thank goodness for this little do-dad so that I can vent). He’s one of those conversationalists that leaves you feeling uncomfortable if you know what I mean, and he’s also one of those people that I would prefer to never touch me. So now that I have described him a bit I need to give you background so you’ll understand the situation. Otherwise, going into a full on vent won’t mean much. So a couple of chapters earlier I mentioned Maps and how we had our list of demands. The manager that was mentioned then was Gus-Gus. I didn’t give him a name at the time because I didn’t think he would be back in here long enough to need one. Anyway, that should pretty much set things up for my vent.
So yesterday when I was at work I had a customer who wanted to get $10 in quarters back with her change, and since we usually only have $10 in quarters or less at the register at any given time I decided to call Andy and get him working on getting the quarters for me before I was finished with the lady’s transaction. I thought it was a pretty smart idea. So I called him and told him I needed quarters. He kind of laughed or something and then he said something about “we’ll see”. I thought he was kidding and assumed he was going to get the quarters but I looked over and he was just standing there like a brainless idiot staring off into space. I finished the transaction with the lady, finally giving her a ten dollar bill and she went to the bank to get quarters, why? Because my manager is a jackass, that’s why! He never got the freaking quarters. He stumbled around in the darkness of his stupidity until it got so busy that he wouldn’t have time to go get the quarters! When Maps had complained earlier I wrote it on the list, but thought it was just something he did to her. Apparently his likes to piss off the more pivotal characters of the workplace. (I don’t call myself a pivotal character because of an oversized ego, it’s just that Maps and I are cashiers who work a mix of nights and mornings, we work hard, and little does he know, we are the leaders of the new workers union). If this were survivor and I had to pick someone to kick out of the store he would be first on my list.
I watched him the rest of the day and wondered what value does he hold for this place? And why in heaven’s name did they make him a manager? He’s not good at it, I could do a better job than him. In fact, I noticed that he’s not good at a lot of things that we need to do at work. He can’t cashier worth crap, and he doesn’t bag! He walks right by a register as though we weren’t slammed and in desperate need of every person bagging and he goes and colors! He really does color, he has the manager card which tells him everyone is working and has when their breaks should be and he colors through the people who have already left. He is my superior? I don’t think so, he does less work than the rock stuck in my shoe, he gets paid to do nothing! I don’t feel sorry for him because of whatever is wrong with his him (I told you something honestly was, some physical impairment). I think someone feeling sorry for him is the only reason he is a manager, and sometimes I wonder if he is really even a manager. I mean on the books, is he really a manager or just some guy that they gave a little raise to, a white button up shirt instead of the polo I wear, and let’s have the card. He doesn’t do anything I couldn’t do if they just gave me a stupid card to swipe when the register is being an ass and won’t let me do my work. You just hit a button and swipe the card, I learned that my first week as a cashier.
So the rest of the day was spent thinking how I could get him fired, or at least transferred or demoted. For a while I thought I had enough influence to do so, but I gave myself a humility check and reminded myself that I am not as great and superior as I have been led to believe. However, while writing this though I realized that I could be a manager easy. Maybe it’s time to see if I can be promoted or something, what do I have to lose? The great guidance of Gus-Gus? Being treated like I don’t know anything about being a cashier (even though I have done it for at least 6 years at three different stores)? It’s either that or call in a favor and have Gus-Gus removed…permanently.
Chapter 38
The Pink Bible
I’m getting nervous about moving into my new home. My new roommates keep contacting me and today the one that I don’t really even know did. It made me uneasy and I’m not sure why. Maybe because I wasn’t sure how to respond to this girl, we are going to be roommates but it doesn’t mean that we are already best friends. I finally responded trying to act nonchalant about things, which is better than the alternative of being business like with her which would be the only other option since I don’t really know her. But it makes me nervous because this will be full fledged girl world; the kind of world where you are called, “girlie” by others, not as an adjective but as a name. No more comments about death and dying or Ted Bundy? Here’s hoping it isn’t the end, that’s the only salvageable kind of conversation! We’ll probably end up having all the same friends and doing everything together, like B.F.F.s do. Sound exciting? Not to me.
But as with everything else in my life in these past three weeks it won’t be as bad as I imagine it. Coming home wasn’t so bad, working in the nursery every Sunday won’t be so bad, and working at the grocery store is actually kind of fun (exhausting but fun). Of course work will be better when I get a paycheck, and even better when I get a real job (you know, something more grown up). I just get nervous because I don’t really get along with girls. The girls that I have been closest to in the last 5 years have mostly been girls who are more like boys, and I don’t mean that they weren’t feminine and such, but they were more down to earth. They were more fun to hang out with and to have conversations with (about Ted Bundy and death…etc.). I’m just wondering if I am in for a world full of friendly faces and bloody backs (…back stabbing, wasn’t sure if I needed to explain that). But I am hoping that these girls are mature, I mean most all of them are college graduates so what’s not to say that they are sincerely nice? Probably genetics. And for the first time in my life I am pretty sure that they will like me (I usually worry that people won’t like me) and I am nervous that I won’t like them (I usually assume that I will). Maybe it’s because I have always been worried that people won’t like me and they always tend to and I end up not really liking them. Subconsciously my brain is trying to convey to me the truth of situations in my life and is trying to help me relax about myself, and yet anxiety seems to be something that can’t just disappear, instead it seems to “refocus” itself, transferring from one area of concern to the next. Damn that anxiety.
The Pink Bible
I’m getting nervous about moving into my new home. My new roommates keep contacting me and today the one that I don’t really even know did. It made me uneasy and I’m not sure why. Maybe because I wasn’t sure how to respond to this girl, we are going to be roommates but it doesn’t mean that we are already best friends. I finally responded trying to act nonchalant about things, which is better than the alternative of being business like with her which would be the only other option since I don’t really know her. But it makes me nervous because this will be full fledged girl world; the kind of world where you are called, “girlie” by others, not as an adjective but as a name. No more comments about death and dying or Ted Bundy? Here’s hoping it isn’t the end, that’s the only salvageable kind of conversation! We’ll probably end up having all the same friends and doing everything together, like B.F.F.s do. Sound exciting? Not to me.
But as with everything else in my life in these past three weeks it won’t be as bad as I imagine it. Coming home wasn’t so bad, working in the nursery every Sunday won’t be so bad, and working at the grocery store is actually kind of fun (exhausting but fun). Of course work will be better when I get a paycheck, and even better when I get a real job (you know, something more grown up). I just get nervous because I don’t really get along with girls. The girls that I have been closest to in the last 5 years have mostly been girls who are more like boys, and I don’t mean that they weren’t feminine and such, but they were more down to earth. They were more fun to hang out with and to have conversations with (about Ted Bundy and death…etc.). I’m just wondering if I am in for a world full of friendly faces and bloody backs (…back stabbing, wasn’t sure if I needed to explain that). But I am hoping that these girls are mature, I mean most all of them are college graduates so what’s not to say that they are sincerely nice? Probably genetics. And for the first time in my life I am pretty sure that they will like me (I usually worry that people won’t like me) and I am nervous that I won’t like them (I usually assume that I will). Maybe it’s because I have always been worried that people won’t like me and they always tend to and I end up not really liking them. Subconsciously my brain is trying to convey to me the truth of situations in my life and is trying to help me relax about myself, and yet anxiety seems to be something that can’t just disappear, instead it seems to “refocus” itself, transferring from one area of concern to the next. Damn that anxiety.
Chapter 40
When You Fall Into a Bottomless Pit You Die of Starvation
Today probably goes down as one of the most sordid days in the history of working at this grocery store. I was working, minding my own business and I was taking a customer’s groceries out to the car and on my way back another car stopped and the window rolled down. Now, this isn’t unusual, it happens quite a bit, people asking for directions or they have a question about something or other. So that is what I was expecting, but this lady was a bit nervous and then proceeded to tell me that there was a condom in the parking lot. She then said she wasn’t sure if that’s what it was but it sure looked like one and she thought I should tell my manager. Tell my manager?! What just pick the manager I am most comfortable with and tell them that there is a condom out in the parking lot? Which is exactly what I did. I got a friend in on it though because I knew I would have trouble telling my manager this. So we both went up to her but we were both laughing about it, me because this is not something I ever expected to have to talk to my manager about and him because I was so nervous and he was making me tell the manager. Turns out that she already knew, someone told her about it yesterday but she never got around to getting it. So I handed her a little plastic bag and told her to get to it! I certainly wasn’t going to do it. If she had picked it up last night then I wouldn’t have had any of the awkward moments of today. So we went out there together and she used a paper towel and the plastic bag I gave her and picked up the used condom from the parking lot. It just makes me uncomfortable; this is the parking lot of my youth! I hung out in this parking lot pretty much every night after work during high school and now someone was prostituting themselves in it!
Then there was a customer today who was freaking out because she thought I man-handled her flowers. “They are very delicate” she kept saying and then points out to me what happens when they are not handled gently on a plant that I barely touched. I knew that I didn’t do it so she was just annoying me. Then she gets an attitude with me and the girl bagging for me because we don’t know how to make a box a half of a box (which is really easy once you are shown but trying to think of it on your own after a couple of hours of work is more difficult). Needless to say this customer walked home with my “most irritating customer of the day” award. But wait, it’s not over. After the continued attitude she tries to elicit sympathy from me, and we know how I am with sympathy. She goofed, and then she said that she just came from the airport so she was a little jet-lagged, and asked me to bear with her. I thought to myself, “You don’t have an attitude because you are jet-lagged, you have attitude because you’re a bitch.” Luckily I didn’t say this aloud but I wonder what she would have done if I had. Maybe when I have another stable job I will take more chances, but for now I am dependent solely on this one.
Other than that work wasn’t all that interesting. I was stuck working mostly with people I didn’t know, barely any of the fun kids from yesterday, and even if there were I wasn’t there much longer after they began coming into work. And there were none of the older people I am used to working with in the mornings. Working 12-7 sucks, it’s like the bottomless pit of boredom and no one is throwing down a lunch-able or a juice box.
When You Fall Into a Bottomless Pit You Die of Starvation
Today probably goes down as one of the most sordid days in the history of working at this grocery store. I was working, minding my own business and I was taking a customer’s groceries out to the car and on my way back another car stopped and the window rolled down. Now, this isn’t unusual, it happens quite a bit, people asking for directions or they have a question about something or other. So that is what I was expecting, but this lady was a bit nervous and then proceeded to tell me that there was a condom in the parking lot. She then said she wasn’t sure if that’s what it was but it sure looked like one and she thought I should tell my manager. Tell my manager?! What just pick the manager I am most comfortable with and tell them that there is a condom out in the parking lot? Which is exactly what I did. I got a friend in on it though because I knew I would have trouble telling my manager this. So we both went up to her but we were both laughing about it, me because this is not something I ever expected to have to talk to my manager about and him because I was so nervous and he was making me tell the manager. Turns out that she already knew, someone told her about it yesterday but she never got around to getting it. So I handed her a little plastic bag and told her to get to it! I certainly wasn’t going to do it. If she had picked it up last night then I wouldn’t have had any of the awkward moments of today. So we went out there together and she used a paper towel and the plastic bag I gave her and picked up the used condom from the parking lot. It just makes me uncomfortable; this is the parking lot of my youth! I hung out in this parking lot pretty much every night after work during high school and now someone was prostituting themselves in it!
Then there was a customer today who was freaking out because she thought I man-handled her flowers. “They are very delicate” she kept saying and then points out to me what happens when they are not handled gently on a plant that I barely touched. I knew that I didn’t do it so she was just annoying me. Then she gets an attitude with me and the girl bagging for me because we don’t know how to make a box a half of a box (which is really easy once you are shown but trying to think of it on your own after a couple of hours of work is more difficult). Needless to say this customer walked home with my “most irritating customer of the day” award. But wait, it’s not over. After the continued attitude she tries to elicit sympathy from me, and we know how I am with sympathy. She goofed, and then she said that she just came from the airport so she was a little jet-lagged, and asked me to bear with her. I thought to myself, “You don’t have an attitude because you are jet-lagged, you have attitude because you’re a bitch.” Luckily I didn’t say this aloud but I wonder what she would have done if I had. Maybe when I have another stable job I will take more chances, but for now I am dependent solely on this one.
Other than that work wasn’t all that interesting. I was stuck working mostly with people I didn’t know, barely any of the fun kids from yesterday, and even if there were I wasn’t there much longer after they began coming into work. And there were none of the older people I am used to working with in the mornings. Working 12-7 sucks, it’s like the bottomless pit of boredom and no one is throwing down a lunch-able or a juice box.
Chapter 39
Statutory
I am one of those people stuck in high school…but not in the typical way. I don’t sit in my parent’s basement drinking soda surrounded by the paraphernalia of my youth and talking about so-and-so and a history class that ended 5 years ago, or that one basketball game because it really did impact someone’s future. No, I am one of those who doesn’t seem to realize that she isn’t 17 years old. I have tried to tell myself time and time again that I am 23 years old, but for some reason it won’t stick. So it bothers me a little that I am working at my high school job, with high-schoolers no less and they ask me all these questions like I’m a freak of nature. I am trying to remember what it was like for me in high school when the college students came home but for the life of me I can’t remember. I don’t think I asked them all these damn questions! There are very few of the high school kids at work who were there at Christmas so I am getting questions from new ones such as, “are you new here?” or “are you home from college?”, and “how long have you worked here?” It turns out that answering ‘for forever’ to that last question doesn’t fly with these kids. Then there are the ones who are more bold or maybe it started because they were just trying to make conversation, but they ask what high school I went to, like it matters. One kid asked me what Prom was like at my school and I told him that I went to his school’s prom (it was true) and he was like, “Oh does your boyfriend go there, I mean, did he go there?” and I said, “no”. But then I felt the need to explain that I just went with this guy from that school, he just asked and I went. I mean I feel honored that he assumed I had a boyfriend in high school. Then he ask me where I knew the guy, I said from work, then he asked me for his name, I told him the guys first name but didn’t bother trying to say his last name and then told the kid that he didn’t work here anymore. I get uneasy with certain questions for some reason so I was happy when we had to part ways at that moment, or maybe I just walked off, I can’t remember. Then I got the audacious question of how long I had been working there, and they made me answer. I say ‘for forever’ and the two boys asking just continued to stare at me as though no time had past and they are still waiting for my answer, so I asked them if they really wanted to know what year and they said ‘yes’… little twats. So I leaned in and said quickly ‘1999’ (it’s the year 2006 and these boys were probably in elementary school when I started working). One of them thought I said 1990 and was freaking out because that is a long time…unfortunately the other guy heard correctly and still had the same reaction. This time I know that I walked off.
But tonight I got some fears aside, I had to work with the younger crowd Saturday and for a small minute yesterday and was nervous that I would never get comfortable with them, I mean I am trying to convince myself of the age difference and so I feel like I’m some old girl that they wouldn’t really want to talk with.
I really felt like it was going to be that way tonight except for maybe two or three people that I worked with last summer so we were already cool. It turns out though that when you get comfortable with people you usually get threats and somehow a broom ends up hitting you. I don’t know how it happened or when it happened really (probably when they caught wind of my list of demands I was going to hand into the managers, I’ll explain later) but suddenly they were joking with me, these younger of the species, and the best part is, they seem to have my sense of humor. I was talking to one of the kids I knew from last summer and this new guy comes up and looks me in the eye and says, “Are you ready for your uniform inspection?” I kind of gave him a look and was thinking fast for a response, but instead ended up feeling like he was about to tell me my fly was down. So I did a uniform check quickly, checking my belt, my shirt buttons, my collar, and lastly my pant zipper. He started to laugh and said he was just joking and I told him he had to watch his back. Some dark night when he thinks he’s all alone walking to his car in the back of the parking lot. It got better though with this kid, whose name I sadly can’t remember at the time (there’s so many new ones!). Later he was telling some other bagger that he needed to watch out for me because I was trouble and I looked up and asked if he was talking about me and he just smiled so I knew I was right. I asked him if he wanted to fight and he said he would make it easy and tie one of his arms behind his back and I told him I would make it easier for him by promising to only kick him. I was pretty proud of myself for my ‘on my toes’ response. Then that same kid got me later from behind with a broom. I was sitting there minding my own business and I got a broom to the back of the knee, I turned to see him scurrying off with the broom in hand and I reach down to find dirt all over my pants. I wiped it off, waited until he came closer and kicked him in the back of the knees…hey, no hands, I kept my promise.
There was another kid that I met at Christmas, he is a cutie pie and if I were about 7 years younger I would be all about that, but I’m not so let me stop the illegal digression. Anyway, so I was helping out my manager and he told the assistant manager that I do it all (because he went to get a kid to do this job and I had already done it) and I said, “there you have it, if he says I can do it all then I can” (he’s the store manager, as opposed to lesser department and area managers). So I was walking with this kid to a register and we were talking about it and I told him that I could work in every department except meat, and he asked why meat? I told him because with my luck I would probably cut off my hand. So he starts joking around with me talking about if I accidentally cut off my finger! At one point I think the words “Where did all this blood come from?” left his lips and I am left thinking to myself, “This kid’s got potential!”
What I love the most is how quickly they have all accepted me, makes me feel...cool.
Oh so before I sign off, I need to tell you about my list of demands. Earlier today one of the older ladies (I’ll call her Maps) that I have known since I started working there (seven years of a century ago) was complaining about how when she asked a certain manager for money he will come and check her drawer and then tell her what she really needs instead of what she asked for. So I came up close to her and lowered my voice and said, “You know what we need? We need to make a list of demands and bring it to the manager.” She liked the idea, not as a serious venture but it helped time to go by. So our list of demands included having water at the register, getting the money we request when we request it (money on demand as I like to call it), she wanted candy that we could eat at the registers, we want cushioned chairs in the break room, a T.V. in the break room, and mute baggers. Then some kid piped in that he wanted to be able to chew gum and I told him he was fired. He was the second person I fired today, I suppose I’m on a power trip, but you know, none of them are really fired so no one really gets upset, they know I have no clout. All in all I like work more and more, I mean, I even stayed an extra half hour tonight just to hang out with these people. In the world of a 17 year old at heart, that is saying a lot.
Statutory
I am one of those people stuck in high school…but not in the typical way. I don’t sit in my parent’s basement drinking soda surrounded by the paraphernalia of my youth and talking about so-and-so and a history class that ended 5 years ago, or that one basketball game because it really did impact someone’s future. No, I am one of those who doesn’t seem to realize that she isn’t 17 years old. I have tried to tell myself time and time again that I am 23 years old, but for some reason it won’t stick. So it bothers me a little that I am working at my high school job, with high-schoolers no less and they ask me all these questions like I’m a freak of nature. I am trying to remember what it was like for me in high school when the college students came home but for the life of me I can’t remember. I don’t think I asked them all these damn questions! There are very few of the high school kids at work who were there at Christmas so I am getting questions from new ones such as, “are you new here?” or “are you home from college?”, and “how long have you worked here?” It turns out that answering ‘for forever’ to that last question doesn’t fly with these kids. Then there are the ones who are more bold or maybe it started because they were just trying to make conversation, but they ask what high school I went to, like it matters. One kid asked me what Prom was like at my school and I told him that I went to his school’s prom (it was true) and he was like, “Oh does your boyfriend go there, I mean, did he go there?” and I said, “no”. But then I felt the need to explain that I just went with this guy from that school, he just asked and I went. I mean I feel honored that he assumed I had a boyfriend in high school. Then he ask me where I knew the guy, I said from work, then he asked me for his name, I told him the guys first name but didn’t bother trying to say his last name and then told the kid that he didn’t work here anymore. I get uneasy with certain questions for some reason so I was happy when we had to part ways at that moment, or maybe I just walked off, I can’t remember. Then I got the audacious question of how long I had been working there, and they made me answer. I say ‘for forever’ and the two boys asking just continued to stare at me as though no time had past and they are still waiting for my answer, so I asked them if they really wanted to know what year and they said ‘yes’… little twats. So I leaned in and said quickly ‘1999’ (it’s the year 2006 and these boys were probably in elementary school when I started working). One of them thought I said 1990 and was freaking out because that is a long time…unfortunately the other guy heard correctly and still had the same reaction. This time I know that I walked off.
But tonight I got some fears aside, I had to work with the younger crowd Saturday and for a small minute yesterday and was nervous that I would never get comfortable with them, I mean I am trying to convince myself of the age difference and so I feel like I’m some old girl that they wouldn’t really want to talk with.
I really felt like it was going to be that way tonight except for maybe two or three people that I worked with last summer so we were already cool. It turns out though that when you get comfortable with people you usually get threats and somehow a broom ends up hitting you. I don’t know how it happened or when it happened really (probably when they caught wind of my list of demands I was going to hand into the managers, I’ll explain later) but suddenly they were joking with me, these younger of the species, and the best part is, they seem to have my sense of humor. I was talking to one of the kids I knew from last summer and this new guy comes up and looks me in the eye and says, “Are you ready for your uniform inspection?” I kind of gave him a look and was thinking fast for a response, but instead ended up feeling like he was about to tell me my fly was down. So I did a uniform check quickly, checking my belt, my shirt buttons, my collar, and lastly my pant zipper. He started to laugh and said he was just joking and I told him he had to watch his back. Some dark night when he thinks he’s all alone walking to his car in the back of the parking lot. It got better though with this kid, whose name I sadly can’t remember at the time (there’s so many new ones!). Later he was telling some other bagger that he needed to watch out for me because I was trouble and I looked up and asked if he was talking about me and he just smiled so I knew I was right. I asked him if he wanted to fight and he said he would make it easy and tie one of his arms behind his back and I told him I would make it easier for him by promising to only kick him. I was pretty proud of myself for my ‘on my toes’ response. Then that same kid got me later from behind with a broom. I was sitting there minding my own business and I got a broom to the back of the knee, I turned to see him scurrying off with the broom in hand and I reach down to find dirt all over my pants. I wiped it off, waited until he came closer and kicked him in the back of the knees…hey, no hands, I kept my promise.
There was another kid that I met at Christmas, he is a cutie pie and if I were about 7 years younger I would be all about that, but I’m not so let me stop the illegal digression. Anyway, so I was helping out my manager and he told the assistant manager that I do it all (because he went to get a kid to do this job and I had already done it) and I said, “there you have it, if he says I can do it all then I can” (he’s the store manager, as opposed to lesser department and area managers). So I was walking with this kid to a register and we were talking about it and I told him that I could work in every department except meat, and he asked why meat? I told him because with my luck I would probably cut off my hand. So he starts joking around with me talking about if I accidentally cut off my finger! At one point I think the words “Where did all this blood come from?” left his lips and I am left thinking to myself, “This kid’s got potential!”
What I love the most is how quickly they have all accepted me, makes me feel...cool.
Oh so before I sign off, I need to tell you about my list of demands. Earlier today one of the older ladies (I’ll call her Maps) that I have known since I started working there (seven years of a century ago) was complaining about how when she asked a certain manager for money he will come and check her drawer and then tell her what she really needs instead of what she asked for. So I came up close to her and lowered my voice and said, “You know what we need? We need to make a list of demands and bring it to the manager.” She liked the idea, not as a serious venture but it helped time to go by. So our list of demands included having water at the register, getting the money we request when we request it (money on demand as I like to call it), she wanted candy that we could eat at the registers, we want cushioned chairs in the break room, a T.V. in the break room, and mute baggers. Then some kid piped in that he wanted to be able to chew gum and I told him he was fired. He was the second person I fired today, I suppose I’m on a power trip, but you know, none of them are really fired so no one really gets upset, they know I have no clout. All in all I like work more and more, I mean, I even stayed an extra half hour tonight just to hang out with these people. In the world of a 17 year old at heart, that is saying a lot.
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