So after cleaning out my closet and getting rid of my couch, which incidentally is still sitting on the curb for some reason, I was able to get the yard mowed, get most of my room cleaned, most of it, I’m not a miracle worker. And then I got sidetracked and went to Ace Hardware and got some paint because I had the brilliant idea that I was going to paint the bathroom. Not for any good reason, mostly because I can’t find a shower curtain to match the orange on the walls and since I’m not a University of Texas fan, I just thought it would be easier to go with a different color. So I picked this lovely shade of purple because it’s my favorite color. But after sleeping on it, I realized, now, I’ll have to get a new shower curtain, which may quite possibly lead to having to do a lot more shopping than I am comfortable with. So off to the paint store I went. I started looking around and found another lovely color. A light green, that hopefully will go well with the grey that’s painted on the bottom half of my walls because I really only want to do half of the work. And I have green in my shower curtain so there should be no more shopping necessary. I know…. I’m a genius. And now….I can use the purple, my fav, in my bedroom. On a less positive note, though, I’m going to be doing a lot of fucking painting this week. Which I guess is ok, since I don’t have a job, but I did apply for one. A part time one. At night. For two and a half hours a day. Serving old people food at a retirement village. And I’m really hoping I get it…… 1.) because I’ve never been a server so I could cross that off my list and 2.) because old people have the best stories, even if they do smell funny sometimes. So I’m keeping my fingers crossed for that. Then I can still write during the day and do all the other stuff on my bucket list and on my trying-to be-crafty-and-self-employed list. I also got a couch off of a Facebook yard sale site. It was like fate. The couch was literally a mile from my house and the dude delivered it for free and helped me carry it inside…. no need to hunt down local homeless people to help. That’s a win! Now I have the couch and the chair covered up with a sheet and a blanket and then topped with a chair and a baby gate and a skateboard so the dogs will stay off it and every time they go near it, I scream like I’ve lost my ever loving mind and scare them away. I’m not sure what they think is happening. And I feel kind of bad, but I feel worse when I have to sit on the coffee table cross legged to watch “Weeds” because I don’t want to get dog hair on my black yoga pants and don’t want to smell like wet dog because they decided to go swimming in my flooded back yard and come inside and chill on the couch. Either way, I’m feeling happy about having a couch I can sit on even if I have to remove everything and put it back like a crooked game of Jenga every time I want to have a seat. My goal for today is to paint my bedroom with the beautiful purple even though I’m fairly certain I am going to have to go back to Ace for more paint and I’m probably going to have to change the color of the ceiling because currently it is a dark blue and I’m not sure how that is going to fare with purple walls, but I will let you know……maybe tomorrow…..
So as I was saying, I try to call my guy but he’s home in bed and his phone is off, because I know he’s not going for that shit and I’m sure that he will rearrange this guy’s face, friend or not, because he’s in love with me, not with this asshole, Troy. So apparently, when Troy left the shop, he went straight to my guy’s house to apologize TO HIM for disrespecting me. I would like to interject by saying, threatening to physically do harm to a woman is a little more than disrespectful, but maybe that’s just me. So after I talk to the owner, and after Troy talks to my guy, and after I leave for the day, everyone thinks that I am overreacting. And that we all need to sit down and have a couple drinks and work it out.
Well, FUCK YOU!!!
I don’t really have the sit down and work it out after you’ve called me names and threatened my life tool in my toolbox. And I understand the owner not doing anything, because he’s kind of a sensitive puss. And at the time, I even understood my guy not beating the fuck out of dude and asking me to help him dig a hole, because he was physically not able to really even get out of the bed and had been on major pain pills for a week, what I did not understand is how this mother fucker was able to keep a job and I was the “guilty” one. “Well, you do have a tendency to bring that out in people.” REALLY? How? Oh, wait, I know. It’s because I have a brain AND a vagina. Those two things are not supposed to go together, it’s like a peanut butter and black bean sandwich. When the fuck does that ever happen, right? So, needless to say, there were not drinks and no discussions. It was a lot of fuck you’s all the way around.
So, I didn’t go back. There were no apologies…..from anyone. My guy broke up with me, which was the most heartbreaking part of the situation. I’m sure my words made it easy for him. I felt like his neglect to defend me was basically the same as him saying those words to me and shaking his fists at me. Maybe I was being a little over-dramatic in that sense, but I do not feel like I was in any other aspect of that situation. Anyway, I felt like shit and I needed to do something to make me feel a little better about the situation.
So…… I took my business bank card (that had my name on it) and went to the ATM and withdrew $500. Then I went to Kroger and bought some Ben and Jerry’s with it and got out $100 more. And then the next day, I got $200 more. And then I stopped. I figured I would get my last paycheck, because I knew they weren’t going to give it to me, and then a couple more bucks for the pain and suffering of having to deal with that shit and all the shit I did for the company and all the hours I worked and all the time I gave up with my kid to try and get shit working there, it was the least they could do. Plus, the bank account had my name on it. I think I probably could have cleaned it out without much ado, but I’m not a complete asshole. I mean, every email address they have, except one, was set up by me and is linked to my personal account. I could have deleted them and then they would have been super fucked. I’m still an admin on the business Facebook page. I could have gotten on there and really done some damage. There’s actually a whole list of damage I could have done, and could still do, if I was in the business of wrecking a business, but I’m a firm believer of Karma and all things coming around so I just got what was due me and washed my hands of the whole situation, because, like I just said, I’m a believer of Karma and all things coming around. So I’ve been home for the last three days, purging all things unnecessary from my life and I’m starting to feel a little better about lots of things, except for my guy, but I’ll work that out eventually….
So it’s been over a week since I quit my job. Yes, I quit. I didn’t get fired, which is funny because the guy who owns the shop I worked at did like to fire me about once a month. Like women get their periods, I could pretty much count down to my final day of the month until he was over his PMS and loved me again, which didn’t usually take to long. It was tiring though, getting fired all the time, because on the few days that I wasn’t there everything got fucked up and I would have to come back and straighten it out. It’s sad really, that I don’t work there anymore. Of all the jobs I’ve ever had, I really loved that one the most, minus all the dysfunction. It was a good fit for me. I got to use my brain and my better judgement. I never got bored. I got to interact with people. But most of all, I was really good at all of it. But, sometimes, you have to decide when to take a stand and I came to that road and had to take the one less traveled. Or maybe I took the freeway. I don’t really know.
I’ll go back to the very start…..or at least the start that matters. After the last time I got fired and was asked to come back, when I got back, there were a few new office girls. One of them, a married one, was fucking with this redneckish asshole who is friends with the owner and my guy. He was doing repairs on the side for the company. So I had set up a repair, after asking said redneckish asshole, we shall call him Troy, Troy Pinkerton of Maryville, if he could do it that day. He said yes. So, I, doing my job, confirmed with the customer the time of the repair and called Troy back. He then proceeded to tell me that he does repairs on his own time because he does not work for Shanon (the owner) and that’s just not going to work for him. I said that it was fine. I would find someone else to do the repair because I had already confirmed it and they were expecting someone at that time. Again, he tells me that he doesn’t work for Shanon. He actually said it about 5 times. And then when I asked him if he didn’t work for Shanon then who pays him? He got mad and hung up on me. I never called him for a repair after that. And he called my guy (like a 5 year old) and told him that I was talking to him like he was stupid. Perception is everything and I perceived that I should use smaller words and speak slowly so he could keep up. Such is life, right?
Fast forward to about two weeks later. Sweet ray of Sunshine, Troy starts working at the granite shop. Before he even started, he tells the new office girl (because his cheating girlfriend is no longer there), that I don’t like him and we don’t get along. Mind you, I had never said an unkind word to this dude. So from the very first day, he keeps coming in the office and questioning everything I was doing. Things that I had been doing successfully since I started. And I basically had to reinvent their system and make it effective because they are not planners. They are pantsers, you know, they fly by the seat of their pants. So every day he is in there basically harrassing me. My guy was out sick for the whole week so I told the owner. The owner told me, “he’s just an asshole. You’ll get used to it.” Eventually, I just stopped acknowledging his presence and let him talk to the other office person, but whenever I did that, he would linger and try to prod me to get any sort of reaction out of me, which he never got, because I’ve worked in a behavior modification classroom for 3 years and I know when you have someone attention seeking, they will try for negative attention if they aren’t getting positive attention. So one day, he was in there running his mouth for about 15 minutes and then he points to this young kid we had working in the shop, on the camera, and says, “look, that Mexican hasn’t done any work in the last 15 minutes, he just keeps walking back and forth to that chip bag.” So I politely point out that, he, too, has been standing around for the last 15 minutes in the office and he was getting paid twice as much. So he cussed at me a little when he thought the other office person was out of earshot and left the office. Again, I tell, said boss, that this dude is harassing me every day, basically all day. So, the weekend comes and goes and I go to work on Monday. Normally I get everything done on the weekend for the following week, but like I said, my guy was sick and I had other stuff to do so I was planning on getting it done on Monday morning. Except, when I got there, Troy was already on a rampage because I had made a mistake on a cut sheet made with a program that I had to train myself on and have never claimed to be perfect at which is why I always attached the original cut sheet to it, so if there are any questions, the cut guys have a point of reference. He comes in the office, slings the paper at me and says some smart shit about me not being able to do my job. I politely (and that’s not a sarcastic politely either, i have always been nice to this dude even when he was being a dick to me, because I am a fucking professional) tell him that there’s a reason I give them the original. Use it. And if there’s a problem with it, call the person who measured the job, it has nothing to do with me or my job performance. For some reason, this dude, flips his shit. He starts every sentence from that point on with , “Bitch….” and then as if that weren’t bad enough. He kept pacing in and out of the office with his fists balled up telling me that he would love nothing more than to punch me in the face. He said different variations of it at least four different times. I basically just stayed sitting in my chair, because, if we are being honest, I’m to pretty to be punched in the face by a redneck who probably has special ed super human strength. So he leaves the building. I call the owner. I try to call my guy but he’s home in bed and his phone is off, because I know he’s not going for that shit.
And this is getting pretty long, so I’ll tell you the rest of it tomorrow…..
**Note: There is a lot of fucking in this blog. Not sex. Just F Bombs**
I know some of you are probably really excited to read about this purge, but it was not me going around town killing poor people like in the movie. It was a purge of unnecessary items from my life. I had a really long and rough week last week. I’m currently without a job (again), I’ll tell you all about that tomorrow. Today, though, and yesterday, I have been going through the things I either don’t need, don’t want, or don’t use. I started yesterday with my closet. I ended up donating 4 bags of clothes to the local Am Vets store. I currently have maybe 20 things on hangers in my closet that I may or may not wear in the future and about 50 empty empty hangers that I may or may not replace clothing on. The cleaning out of the closet involved a lot of talking to myself. The conversation went a little like this, “Nice pants, even when I could fit in them, I never wore them so why the fuck do I still have them?” and “White pants? Why the fuck did I ever have these? I am way to messy to wear anything white!” and “Pinstripes, super cute, even slimming, but you’ve always been too thick thighed to wear these. Buhbye.” “Oh, bell-bottoms, these were super cute 20 years ago and 40, but sweet thing, your legs are too fucking long and you look stupid in them so put them in the bag because when they come back in style, you won’t be any shorter!”
That was pretty much the closet purge. Then I started throwing away (well, recycling) all the empty boxes. Mel’s TV box, Mel’s PlayStation box, Mel’s headphones for the PlayStation box, and then I got to a Comcast box that still had a small receiver in it that I had ordered for Mel’s room but never was able to hook it up. Not sure if I’m not smart enough or if there just isn’t cable in his room. Either way, as it turns out I’ve been paying $6 per month plus tax on this little box that has never been used. So I took it back to Comcast and returned it. I was starting to feel much better. While on this was going on, my mom was in the kitchen doing dishes. Yes, I had let them kind of pile up. Depression does that sometimes. So she was doing that while I was maniacally throwing shit away. To be honest, I didn’t actually throw much away, because I’m just so green, I have to reduce, reuse, and recycle. Isn’t that how the slogan goes.
Then, this morning, because it’s garbage day, I had to get my couch out of the house. I have been trying to get someone to help me move this fucker out of the house for a week. It’s full of dust and dog hair and my spare dog has eaten a whole cushion. I guess after she ran out of dirt in my cactus plant to eat, she decided sponge would be fine. Needless to say, it is very hard to find someone to help you move or move furniture. Do you ever notice how many friends you have when you are doing for them, but when you need something…… (crickets chirping)?
But then, I had this BRILLIANT idea. It was about 9 am. The liquor stores are open. I live in the “ghetto” according to mostly everyone I know. So I thought I would take full advantage of it. I started cruising by the liquor store looking for some familiar homeless, drinking faces, because I knew if I offered them $10 for five minutes of work, they would totally go for it. I know what you’re thinking…. “you are going to bring a random homeless person in your house?” Yes, yes the fuck I was because I needed the couch out before the garbage men come today. However, as luck would have it, there was not one single person out at either of the liquor stores. Nor were there any people lingering on the streets or waiting at the bus stops. It’s like when you’re eye is twitching and you tell someone to look at it and as soon as they do, your eye stops twitching. That was my search for some homeless help today.
And in the midst of my cruising back and forth on Magnolia, I was waved down by a couple of the local drug dealers.
“What you need, ma?”
“Oh, sweetie, you don’t have what I need. Unless you have a very strong homeless man in your pocket, I’m good.”
Because I did have enough sense to not bring some creepy drug dealer to my house to move this stupid fucking couch. I ended up giving up on my search for muscle and went home with a “fuck it” attitude, which has kind of been the attitude I’ve had for a week now, because I’m really honestly and truly over it, all of it. So I got home, walked in the house, looked around the living room, glared at the couch, and with the strength of a thousand jealous girlfriends, I politely tipped that mother fucker on its side and dragged it out of the house by myself and then walked it one side at a time up to the curb. Then I flipped it off and went back inside feeling accomplished.
It’s been a week since Mel, my sweet little baby, got his wisdom teeth out. Aside from losing all his wisdom, he gained a boatload of pain over the last seven days. The first three were expected. Then, adding to his truancy, the dry socket reared its ugly head causing him to miss even MORE school. At first I thought he was exaggerating, but he’s not usually a complainer so I knew something was up. I was so vigilant making sure he followed all the rules. Militant even. And yet, here he was with an oversized jawline and an inability to chew. We started his diet out the first day with a milkshake. Day two, more milkshakes and some mashed potatoes. Day three, he was tired of milkshakes and moved on to Icees. Day four, Ramen noodles, aka nests of chicken flavored plastic. Day five, I felt bad for not feeding him any real food, even though he didn’t want any, so I made him some more mashed potatoes.
This is where I add the monkey side note. It’s more of an update really. We’ve been out of bananas because of banana rat. So I haven’t bought any more. After I made the potatoes, in typical Angie fashion, I forgot to put them away. There wasn’t that many but, I meant to save them so Mel would have something to eat. Like I said, I forgot. Mel woke up in the morning and was going to eat some (yes, even though they had been out all night, no, I don’t condone it) but they were gone. Completely gone. Disappeared. The only thing left were little potato remnants on the side and bottom of the pan, but there were no footprints. So Mel and I decided that it was not banana rat that ate the potatoes. It must have been a potato monkey because the pot was licked clean (or so it looked). Basically, I still have no idea what the hell is living in my kitchen, but it’s going to have to start kicking in on the groceries soon.
Back to Mel….so he was sad the potatoes were gone and his face was still swollen. I called his dentist and made him an appointment. The dentist said it was a dry socket and put the little gauze in his mouth and said it would stop hurting soon but so far it hasn’t. I know Mr. Dentist is the professional with 8 years of schooling or more under his belt, but I’m not convinced that he’s right. Call it Mother’s intuition. Hopefully tomorrow will be better. If not, it’s back to making mashed potatoes for Mel and the monkey.
I am a huge fan of dental hygiene, but I am, by far, the worlds worst flosser. Seriously, I take my oral hygiene very seriously (and I like to repeat words). I brush twice a day. Sometimes three times. I floss almost daily. I don’t even know if you are actually supposed to floss daily, but I feel like that’s the golden dental rule. However, if anyone ever actually watched me floss, I’m sure they would liken it to a virgin with a corsage on prom night. In the least elegant manner possible, I attempt to wrap the floss around my fingers the way the dental hygienist showed me throughout basically my entire existence. That’s the easy part. It’s the transferring of used floss from one finger to the other finger on the other hand. I’m sure there’s some method to the madness, but it’s like math to me and I can’t seem to figure it out. Not to mention, I don’t have any idea what to do with my tongue when I’m flossing. I basically look like a stroke victim when I floss. My mouth is open, my tongue is contorted, and I’m pretty much drooling excessively (like waterfall excessive). It’s not a pretty sight. That’s why I do it when I shower. Well, when I shower alone, because of course I would never floss with company in there with me. I think they should offer a course in flossing with tact. Maybe there’s a YouTube video or something. I think I’ll search for it. Until then, I’ll (Oral)B Seein ya!!!
I have this window of writing opportunity every day between 10am and 2pm. It’s not an opportunity of time, but an opportunity of mental clarity. Those four hours of every day are when I am capable of producing strings of sentences that I am proud of. Those four hours are when I feel the most complete with my life. I’ve lost those four hours when I went back to work and I feel it every second of every day. Today was particularly rough because when I went back to this job, it was with the understanding that I would work a full day Monday and Friday and half days mid week. No weekends necessary, just there to make things run smooth. Well, Sunday, I went in from 7-8pm to make sure the guys who were coming in at 4 am knew what they needed to get started on. Then, I came in at 8 am Monday and worked until 8pm to make sure the rest of the week went smooth for every one else. After all, that’s why I’m so useful to this company, but then I come in Tuesday and nobody is following the schedule that I so thoughtfully planned out. They just do whatever the fuck they want. Which would be fine if I didn’t give a shit about my job and maybe I need to go that route, but it’s just not me. I’m either all in or all out. It’s my character flaw. So 10 am rolls around and my beautifully thought out ballet has turned back in to a three ring circus and I’m just sitting there thinking to myself, “I could be at home writing. I could be fulfilling my own dream instead of trying to make this fucking guy’s dream come true when he clearly likes chasing his tail and doesn’t give a fuck about the time I’ve put in to any of it.” And the more I thought about it, the more pissed off I got. I snapped on pretty much everyone (not necessarily undeservingly because they have no idea how much thought and time goes into scheduling things so they make sense) and then I politely grabbed my shit and took the rest of the day off. I turned off my work phone and headed home. I knew I wouldn’t write today because my moment had passed and I can’t figure out a way to retrain my brain to work during other times. So on my way, I got a call from a former coworker who asked me to stop by. She’s a little older than me so she has lived a little more and is way wiser. In the midst of our conversation, she said that she loves me so much because I am the only person in her life that she doesn’t have to worry about. She said she never worries about me the way she worries about every one else because she knows I will always be ok. And it dawned on me, that is probably the consensus of everyone who knows me. I will always be alright so there’s no need to worry, but if I’m being honest, I want someone to worry about me. I want someone to say “it’ ok to not be ok.” Sometimes I can’t vocalize what is wrong and I’m not ok, but I keep smiling and pretending that nothing bothers me when everything is and I have days like today where I can’t function in society because I am so filled with rage that should really be directed at myself for not setting boundaries and for not doing what it is I love to do more and for letting other’s expectations run my life.
Sorry, I know this went extremely downhill and far left. I’m just feeling honest. Thank God, I didn’t open the vodka in my freezer or there would probably me much more honesty where this came from. Just so I don’t end this on some morbidly boowoo-ey pity party type shit, I just want you to know that tomorrow will not be so deep. I plan on telling you about the treachery that is me trying to floss my teeth. So, see you then, it’s much lighter with way more saliva 😉