Tuesday, March 04, 2014

Kill Me

I am so hot that I want to die.  The largest downside to visiting my mother is that Donny insists on keeping the house above 75 degrees in the winter. It is 81.5 right now. I am in a tank top and loose yoga pants and lying in a pool of sweat. He's about to be under a fleece blanket while wearing two pairs of socks, sweat pants, T-shirt, sweat shirt.

Also, if he keeps bitching about technology and cell phones and how they're ruining the world, I'm gonna slap a ho.

Wednesday, February 26, 2014

I Don't Care

Here we are, nearly eight months since my last post. No one cares anymore. And that's ok. Because I care. Well, not really...to be honest, I don't care. I don't care what I write about. I don't care if people read it and get angry in an immature manner like in the past.

Yeah, I Don't Care.

So, now that that's out of the way. Rant time!

Every time I wake up and have to go to work, I consider taking a bottle of pills and slitting my wrists and jumping in front of a semi. I just can't handle it anymore. If I could walk in to work and just do my thing and go home, I would be fine. But I walk in, and the rules have changed since yesterday, but no one sent me the memo. Sometimes I work in one department, sometimes another. And while I'm in dept. A, something happens in dept. B that no one thinks is important to inform me of, so when I go into dept. B, I fuck something up or I accidentally tell someone we can do something without knowing that machines are broken, etc.

And how about I've called off three times in four years: 1) trapped in a foreign country due to flight cancellation, 2) food poisoning by a neighbor, and 3) sinus death. But some people call off multiple times in a week, and it feels like all that can happen is that people bitch about it. No consequences or anything. But if others call off, the guilt trip from hell comes out. It's basically a daily struggle for me to decide if the measly paycheck is worth it. (no, probably not) But I feel like after four years of dedication, I can't just walk away. (i wish i didn't think this way) 

While I'm on the topic of how long I've worked there: I currently only make 40 cents more than a fucktard that has been working there for a few months. This must be why they don't want people to know how much others make. Whatever, cut my hours from 38 to 24 and expect me to still be dedicated to a company that doesn't give two shits about whether its employees can afford the gas to get to work? Not happenin' anymore, sorry. And why should I go in and give 100% when the total of the rest of the people there on a given day is only 75%?

Why do I keep asking so many answerless questions? Sigh, because I have ridiculous cognitive dissonance about my life. And I suppose they aren't really answerless:
"You should give 100% because that's what sets you apart from the others!"
Except no one actually gives a fuck, and without any recognition, there's no point in exerting myself. There are no repercussions for only giving 80% or even 10%, and there's no positive reinforcement for doing more than is expected. I just feel like everything I do is pointless.

And then there's the ridiculousness of my outside of work life. Which I can't even sum up in a few short paragraphs like the above job rant. That's a whole other five book saga. The shortest version I could come up with is:

I am surrounded by fruit loops.

And when you put all of the above into my tiny little brain, you understand why I have to plan a vacation to Hawai'i 400 days in advance. Because I need something to look forward to that isn't putting on my stupid uniform and pasting on a fake smile and pretending to give a fuck.  I don't even want to come back from Hawai'i. I wanna run away. Dammit.

Saturday, July 06, 2013

Updates & All That Jazz

This is going to be a very personal outpouring of all the emotions I have bottled up inside me. I haven't really vented (and I mean REALLY VENTED) lately so I apologize in advance.

I went to Vegas with Rae for my birthday. That was fun.


While we were in Vegas, our aunt died. I don't know how to deal with things like that. Especially when I'm so removed from the situation. Like being across the country. I haven't grieved in any way. I don't think I know how. I just like to pretend that it didn't really happen, and that she just doesn't come to the picnics and doesn't use facebook anymore. Anyway...

I pretty much don't care about my job. I honestly do not care if I get fired tomorrow. Because it's just...frustrating. I have to spell things out, literally in black and white, with notes taped to everything just for some people to know wtf to do. Honestly, how hard is it to put shit on shelves? I'll tell you, it's apparently really hard. Sometimes I wonder how people manage to get themselves out of bed in the morning, or, you know, breathe.

I hate being in love. Pretty much the shittiest feeling ever. When he's not around, all I do is think about him; his smell, his eyes, his hair, his car, his dog, his bed, his biceps, his job, his body, his bed - did I say that one twice? - what he's doing, is he fishing, what he's thinking about. I think about all the things I want to say to him, because I don't open up to him. I let him talk and talk about everything in his life, but I barely say anything about mine. I'm too scared. But I practice the conversation on my way to his house. I think about how to say that I just want to wake up next to him, his arm still around me. I think about telling him that nothing in this life would make me happier than spending every moment with him for the rest of my life. I think about telling him that he's the most important person to me, that I would do anything for him. I think about telling him how badly I want him, sexually. I want to talk about everything that I've mentioned above.

But then I sit down next to him on the couch and say nothing. I just lay my head on his shoulder and pretend like none of this exists.

Tuesday, March 19, 2013

GRRFUCK

I don't know that I have ever been so frustrated with my place of work. I dread going there. Most days I cry on the drive out there simply because I'm going there. It's awful. I'm pretty sure no one should feel that way.  Most days I also feel like I'm the only one doing anything. I'm trying to do 5 things at once while Dick stands over there talking about stupid shit, and Dick2 stands over here talking about other stupid shit. Or hey, let's just look at my line of 4 customers and run the other way. AND Heaven fucking forbid you ask one of them to help you with your line...that would imply that they have to fucking do something. But when I'm not the one with the line, let's rush over to help whomever is standing at the register. Yeah, that's awesome.

I also wish I didn't despise the voices of half the people I work with. Just hearing Dick's voice over the intercom is enough to send me straight into the depths of suicidal depression. I just want to quit. Or have them quit. Because either one might solve part of the problem. Not hearing some peoples' "I'm so awesome" attitudes in their voices would make my day run so much more smoothly. It might also make me less likely to drive my car into a tree just to get out of one five-hour shift of working with them.

I need a vacation. From life.

Saturday, September 22, 2012

Dream For Rae (she is 'you')

had a dream that there was one of those shindigs at grandma's so my dad and i went over in the same car and it turned into a camping deal. So i went inside while everyone else was in the garage and tried to sleep in that one room where your dad stayed. and someone raped me. and then the next morning i kept trying to get dressed and grandma would nto fucking leave me alone to put my clothes on and she was obsessed with how pretty my bra was. I finally got dressed and went out to be with everyone else and you were like "You're not the first person to get raped here." I was like "Um, I don't know what you're talking about..." And somehow...you and bonnie knew "the face of a raped girl" but no one else was paying attention.

So then I go home and my car windows are down and one of the doors is open. And its pouring. And i'm like "WHAT THE HELL DAD? Did we get robbed?" "Oh no...it probably just got so hot in there that the doors burst open." I walked up to the door and the window had been smashed in and all the stuff from my backseat was gone and I tried to open the trunk but the button had been removed from my fob. Then we went inside and all my dad's printers and computers and phones were gone. Went into my room and all my computer stuff was gone. On the table where my dad's computer was, was a composite sketch of some guy named Randall and a police report from a witness.

Thursday, January 26, 2012

And How's Your Week Going?

Let's discuss shitweek.

  • Sunday - Wonderful fun...football, all that exciting horseshit. Love, sex, snacks...
  • Monday - Turns out those snacks were poisoned (or spoiled and then poisoned me); had to call off for the first time ever because I just lie in bed writhing in pain until 9pm when I tried to eat a small piece of chicken...
  • Tuesday - woke myself up from nightmares, still not ok to eat meat but forced myself through a 6 inch Subway heaven sandwich, went to work...Subway = awful idea
  • Wednesday - go to work, doing fine...doing fine...suddenly become very pale, dizzy...blurred vision, loss of hearing, almost passed out in the bathroom; my arms and legs started trembling but I couldn't bring myself to puke because our bathrooms are too gross to throw up in (yes...too gross for vomit), so I crawled to tell a manager, then curled into a chair in the break room and cried for about 15 minutes; manager bought me some animal crackers and a sprite...an hour and a half later, I was able to stand up. continued working. went to mom's for taco night. ate one taco, got sick again. came home...sleep = nightmares
  • Thursday - woke up from nightmares (see Wednesday) at 4:26. Then woke up again at 5:30 when phone fell off its stand and turned on the electric blanket which then started to cook me...but as of 9:04 am, I have not gotten sick. Knock wood.

Wednesday, January 11, 2012

Top Songs of 2011!

1. Sugarland - Incredible Machine
2. Lil Kim ft. Sisqo - How Many Licks
3. Blue October - Into the Ocean
4. Nicki Manaj ft. Eminem - Roman's Revenge
5. James - Laid
6. Taylor Swift - Fearless
7. Keith Urban - Better Life
8. Atmosphere - Fuck You Lucy
9. Kelly Clarkson - Already Gone
10. Trey Songs ft. Nicki Manaj - Bottoms Up
11. Adele - Someone Like You
12. Blackstreet ft. Dr. Dre - No Diggity
13. Lady Gaga - Bloody Mary
14. Foster the People - Pumped Up Kicks
15. Kenny Chesney - Somewhere With You
16. Avril Lavigne - Losing Grip
17. Taylor Swift - Hey Stephen
18. Ke$ha - Blow

Wednesday, January 04, 2012

Happy New Year!

Hello. I has been two and a half months since my last blog. I apologize for any loyal readers out there. But like I have said in the past, my post frequency depends on mood. And I guess there's something good about antidepressants...

When we last left Stef, she was having nightmares about work. Nothing's changed. Same old, same old nightmares. She was also told she might have a brain tumor. Turns out, not so much, but might as well have been one.

I have several bulging discs pinching nerves in my neck on the right side, hence the face-numbing and pain. Unfortunately Aetna might be the worst insurance in the history of the world and they don't cover ANYTHING, so I can't pay for my physical therapy or medicine or doctor's visits or, well, anything. Basically I have to live with the pain until something happens with the shit-show of a health care system the US has or I die. I fear dying will come first.

I had a nightmare that the Christmas music playlist at work got stuck and we had to listen to it forever. And ever. And ever. And ever.

Today is one of those days where I wake up and think, "Is this really my life? Am I really nearly 26 years old, wearing fuzzy pajama pants in my dad's house, waking up at 5:45 am to go to work for a 13.5 hour shift at my horrid retail job because I'm a 'trooper?' Did my NYE really involve three fights because of someone who wasn't even invited and decided to ruin it for everyone present? Was I really mopping the Kahlua off the floor with a towel for 45 minutes? Is there really three feet of snow on my car that I have to go brush off before I attempt to trek to work? Is the Dragon Lady really going to continue to make my life awful until I lose it?"

Yes. Yes it is really my life.