Moving, Again.

I just want to wish everyone a Happy Holiday Season. Hope nothing truly awful or traumatic happens to anyone. And I'm sorry that for a little bit I'm going to be posting infrequently. We are going to be moving to Exeter to live with my Mom. There's a whole bunch of things I have to say about that. Some good, some bad. But that's for another day. We kind of have to, financially. I haven't actually live, permanently, with my mother since I was seventeen. So this is going to be interesting. The only thing that makes it possible is that we are re-doing the basement to our own apartment. So it won't be so bad once it's settled. But that's going to be a bit.
But anyhow, we're packing now and going back and forth a lot. Once we have our stuff set up there I'll have a lot more time. Mikey's back with boxes though and he'll be irritated that I've been on the computer while he was gone. So...until later.

You Can't Always Get What You Want....and bad bosses.

Uh-Oh. Not even one post later and I'm back to my bitching and complaining. The typical narcissistic blogger. Me, me, me....


Wow-ee. It's been a stretch since I've last posted. And a crap load has occurred in my absence. Where to begin....Well, I'm a bit embarrassed to admit, but I don't work at the health food store anymore. It just was not going to work out. I technically quit before I got fired but he got his two cents in before I left for sure. I have to clarify that I have only been really fired from one job. By "really" I mean I didn't quit first like in this instance and I really didn't see it coming. Most of my jobs I've left on good terms and stayed at for years. I worked at a farm in VT for four summers and a grocery store there for three years. I worked at a youth center for two years and the crappy truck yard even for fourteen months. I have had other jobs for six months here and there because I used to travel a lot and then when I went to school and such. But my point is that I'm generally a hard worker and very thoughtful. Even the whole time I used I worked full-time and my employer liked me. I still use him as a reference and I know he gives me a good one. So really it boils down to the fact that the owner was just too hard for me to work with. I kind of knew he was weird, but I didn't know the half of it until I really started to have a lot of contact with him. It just got to be unbearable. He called my co-workers idiots in the middle of the store in front of a bunch of customers. And then later that same evening he called the cashier stupid and too dumb to put the candy away correctly, also in front of customers. And that's just a blip in the craziness. There was a "procedure" for EVERYTHING! Now, I'm all for an organized, well-run workplace. But it got to be crazy. Mostly because if you didn't think to ask if there was a procedure for something and did it wrong, even once, he'd bug out and talk to you as if you were the biggest loser retard in the world. And how could you BE so STUPID as to not think to ask what the EXACT procedure was for letting a customer use the bathroom. I'm not making that up either. There was a procedure for that which needed to be followed to the T. Apparently, we were not allowed to hand the customer the bathroom key, we were supposed to unlock the door and let them in and hang up the key and then wait for them. Because, he said, there was too much theft and we needed to check the bathroom after each customer use to make sure they didn't steal anything and also to check cleanliness. Which, whatever, a bit insane, but if that's what he wants, whatever. But I asked my co-workers if she could use the bathroom first and they said sure. They didn't mention anything about a specific procedure for this instance, so I figured common sense could prevail. But he (the owner) must have heard her or saw her leave the bathroom and he found me to yell at me about not asking about "procedure". This is when he called everyone idiots. It was really humiliating and that's when I started to lose it. I knew it wasn't going to work at the end of that day. But things didn't blow until the following day.

The straw that broke the camel's back was when he told me I should have finished putting the day's order away "hours ago" and why was I SO far behind. I was crushed. It was a huge order and it was the second time ever that I had put the whole thing away alone and only maybe the fifth time ever I had even touched an order there at all. And I had always worked with someone else. I still didn't know where a lot of products went. And I thought I had done an awesome job. Other employees had even come in throughout the day and commented on how much I had done so fast. Not to mention I had found products on the shelves that had been out of code date since JUNE! I must have found a total of thirty products in the time I worked there that were out of date. And rather than take them off the shelf, he'd just mark them down. Even dairy products, like yogurt. I also moved almost four shelves of back-stock onto the store shelves. Stuff that he was ordering new because he didn't even bother to see what he had. You have to understand that this store was rather small. So it's kind of really bad that stuff was so disorganized and not up to code. They kept saying that couldn't find any good help and they'd been so understaffed for so long. Now I know why. Nobody wants to work for this guy. During the interview I said (and I don't know how this came up) I was wary of businesses that always had an ad in the paper because it made me think they couldn't keep employees for a reason. Maybe they were bad places to work. He got all weird and started to explain why he always had an ad in the paper. I didn't realize that he was always running ads because I didn't generally get the paper that I found the ad in. I had no idea that I was talking about him. But now I know it's a good rule to follow.

Anyhow, after he dissed my work I was pretty frustrated and I wasn't really in to staying late to finish the order which I had been fully prepared to do before. You have to know that he had insulted me at least ten times that day already and I had received it gracefully. Despite the fact that most of the times he should have realized it was stuff I was hearing for the first time. He would yell at me or correct me over stuff that had happened way before I ever worked for him. Like stuff with price tags in the wrong place. (Every item had a SPECIFIC location in which the price sticker must be placed. Or else.) Or if stuff wasn't set up the way he wanted it. Or there was a lettuce leaf or a drop of water on the floor. It could be anything. And he would talk to you as if he just caught you stealing a hundred dollars out of the register. He'd say things all the time like, "Because you didn't remember to write that pudding down as a credit on the bills, I forgot to call it in. Now it's too late and that's going to be a loss for me you know". And then he'd give you this look like you idiot, how are you still alive. That really happened by the way. Except you should know that it was me in the first place who happened to notice that the Indian pudding we had just received had a code date that was bad in about four days. So if we had put it out we would have ended up eating most of it because it would have gone bad way before it sold. But they were totally surprised I caught it to begin with. Because, of course, I was new so when I noticed it I asked him what he wanted to do about it, he told me to tape it up and where to put it. I swear he didn't remind me to write it down. I think at that time, I'd seem him do that with some items but only after the fact or from afar. I hadn't been specifically instructed. And maybe that's common knowledge but I just didn't realize. And he was throwing way too much at me at once anyhow for me to remember everything I'm told after hearing it once. Obviously he knew about it because we had a lengthy conversation about the whole "procedure" of where it needed to go and how. He also checked the bills after the order was complete to make sure I checked every item off and hadn't done anything totally off base. So that was another opportunity for him to catch my mistake of not writing down the pudding. So how is it all my fault? How does he bear no responsibility? In my short time there I heard him tell another employee that he never forget anything important at least. And very rarely did he forget anything at all. I swear he thought he was the most perfect, flawless human in the world.

Could I get in legal trouble if I mention him and his business by name? Is there a site on which employees or former employees can warn other potential employees about bosses who are abusive or unethical? There should be. There are sites where customers can tell potential customers about how pleased or not they were with their escort, or prostitute, for the night. If we have that, then we should definitely have the same type of thing for the world of employers. Don't people have the right to be informed of a potential issue with an employer? Do they belittle their employees, do the make sexual comments, do the pay late or not at all, do they give breaks or just pretend to? Things like that are important and you can't ask them in an interview. No, on the contrary, the person being interviewed has to kiss butt, like the employer doesn't need employees just as much as we need an employer. You can't run a business, in many circumstances, with no employees, right? So why isn't the relationship more give and take?

Well, what it came down to it that he wasn't paying me enough to do the job at double speed, never make a mistake, EVER, and on top of all that be his emotional punching bag because he had a mental illness combined with massively low self-esteem. In the end, though, it has been a blessing in disguise. But I have to run now so I'll have to update on all the other news later. But trust me, there are BIG happenings.

Whoa, thanks for letting me get that out. It's been eating at me for days. I really wanted that job to work out. I loved the actual work. And the other employees were cool. The hours were great, the location convenient. But alas, not everything is what we wish it would be.

It's so Fricken Cold!

Cold! So Cold! I hate the cold without enough snow. We have some snow but not enough to insulate the earth here in NH.

But anyhow -and I have to make this fast - I've been thinking a lot about how I can change the tone of this blog to be more positive and interesting. Really, nobody wants to read about someone's shitty life day after day. If there is no humor in it especially.
So I've finally ditched my shitty job and have a better one. In fact, working at the new place has reminded me of what I was interested in before I became obsessed with H. I wanted to go to school to be an herbalist and I was really into health and natural medicine in general. So I need to make that a priority in my life once more. It will make me feel better and may be more interesting to read about also. This is a rushed post since I should be getting ready for work. So as I am re-learning a lot of the stuff I need to know to be good at my new job, I thought I could also write about it a little bit here. Of course I'm sure I won't be able to help myself from bitching just a little bit. But we'll see if I even stick to it. I have a knack at no follow through. Have a wonderful, frigid day everyone!

Monday Funday

It's Monday. I'm sure everyone was already aware of that. I didn't have to work on Saturday so it was like a real weekend for me. But Now, here it is, Monday. And I have a million things to do. First on my list was to figure out where the heck Mikey's unemployment money disappeared to. I figured I'd check the account balance on the freak chance that it just simply showed up over Sunday sometime; not actually expecting that to happen though. But it DID! It's here! Freakin' weird, if you ask me. But also lame, because it was probably actually in there all weekend just not showing. So it ruined my day on Saturday and Sunday because I thought we had no money. It would have been fine if one of the people we spoke to from the bank or the online site on Saturday had simply said, "The website is experiencing some difficulties. If your money was sent then it will probably have gone through by Monday. But don't get upset by what the screen is showing because it is inaccurate". That's all, but nobody had anything other than, "I don't know. You'll have to call unemployment." As if we were just crazy people who thought we had money we didn't. We tried to explain that unemployment has a website too. They showed that the payment was sent on 12/10 and it didn't go through until today. That's sucky. I hate money and banks and payments, it's all too rigid for my artistic sensibilities ; ).

Ick. I have to go to the clinic still. I hate the clinic. I like methadone, it works for me. But I think it's crap that I can't get take-homes because I smoke weed. That's it. Just the weed and the done for me. But I still have to go there every day. Even though I'm one of, like, two percent of the patients who has a full-time job and is trying to finish school. I still get treated like a degenerate because I smoke a fricken herb. It's not as if I'm still booting dope, so seriously. And they are only open until eleven-thirty so I really have to run. Super convenient, huh? Only ten on the weekends. And they bitch at you if you get there after quarter of ten because they don't want to be there after ten still dosing, they want to be closing up by ten-thirty. If they open at six, that's only a four hour day. Oh, poor, finger-to-the-bone things.

Well, to the clinic, then laundry, then back home to get ready for work which I only have to be at for two hours tonight. Kind of silly - but money is money, right.

If Only I Had A Penny For Every Complaint......

Well, I officially, totally, entirely, and for sure, suck. I suck, suck, suck. Mikey called while he was out and decided he would, after all, pick up the stuff I needed at the store for the cake. So I made the cake and I also made a really awesome wreath out of hemlock, white pine, bittersweet berries and dried Queen Anne's Lace flowers. It may not be everyone's cup of tea but I like it a lot. I think it's really pretty and still Chrismassy. But then I didn't go to the party. I called, obviously, to say I wouldn't make it. I'm not a total ass. She seemed fine about it. It's not like we're really friends, we hardly know each other. I think she only invited me because I heard her talking about it to the kid we work with. But still, I didn't want them to worry or think I couldn't find the place, or whatever. I really have no good excuse. I could have made it. I would have been a bit late - but better late than never. Why? Why didn't I go?

Well, for starters, it was a shitty, shitty day. Everything just went wrong. It began by having to drive to the clinic - and Mike had left an oxygen tank in the car. And those f'n things are heavy, and they roll. I can't lift it out of there either and I knew he wouldn't move it first thing in the morning w/out making a major fuss. So I drove with the tank in the car - fling back and forth every time I turned a corner. I thought it was going to go right through the side of the car a couple times. I pulled into the bank, driving as slowly and carefully as possible without causing an accident, and still it was like Slam! Bang! Clunk!; and the woman sitting in a car next to the space I pulled into looked at me as if I were there to bomb the bank and maybe my bomb had gone off early. So I became slightly perturbed early in the day because of the tank being still in the car. See, I've had this discussion with him five majillion times. I've asked him to please take the tank out immediately so I don't get stuck driving around with it slamming around. We drive a little, two-door Honda Civic, so the tank literally throws the car off balance as it flails around in there. It's actually dangerous. It distracts me as well as physically causing me to swerve. Plus, I think it will blow up if it gets slammed hard enough. I know, I've been told, that that CAN"T happen. Can't, Shmant. I don't want to hear it, just get the f'n thing out of the car! So then, obviously, once I got home I bitched about it and that got him all pissed off. So the morning just began all sucky. And then it got worse.

Mike is on unemployment..still. And we get direct deposit of the funds every week, without fail. So we planned on having a certain amount of cash for the weekend. But when we went to check our balance on the on-line banking sight, it said we had nine dollars in the account. So we're like "What the Fuck?". So we looked on the Vermont State unemployment website and it said the check was paid to us on the tenth. So where the hell did the money go? If it's not in our account, where is it? We didn't think there would be an issue because why would there? It's been the same every week for months now. So it was Saturday after noon, the post office was closed so we don't know if maybe they sent it that way for some bizarre reason. And we can't call the office until Monday. And the bank (we called them too, because our bank IS open on Saturdays) and they said they couldn't track it until we talked to unemployment and got more information about how the money was supposed to be paid out. I just can't fathom where it is? How does direct deposit, that's been the same for months, get fucked up? It's not as if it got stuck or lost in a f'n wire across the universe somewhere. It's fricken all electronic. Did someone hit a wrong button somewhere? I don't know. But I DO know we have NO money! Because my new job pays, like, nothing. And my old job is being an asshole about giving me my vacation pay. And I don't need to remind anyone that it's Christmas in, like, two seconds. I'm SO STRESSED! To say the least. Maybe if I didn't have to dish out $105 every week for my methadone I'd be able to swing it. But I only made a hundred bucks from my new job this week. I'm taking a hefty pay cut to be able to work days, I'm physically much happier, I'm just stressed about money. Who isn't? Besides the obvious answers, like celebrities.

But anyhow, I was just stressed to the max about not getting the check that said it was sent. I hate having to wait to take action. I hate being helpless and unable to do anything to fix something. I just have to wait. So I gave half the cake I made to the neighbors upstairs. It was Mike's idea. He talks to the guy a lot and he knew the girl, the pregnant one has been craving chocolate cake. So I decided not to be a mega bitch for, like, a minute and gave them half. But I made Mike bring it up to them, and I better get my plate back! And I'm going to put the wreath on our own door today. I have pictures, but we live in the boonies and only get dial-up Internet, so pictures are a nightmare to download. Maybe I can figure something out by downloading them over the phone or something. We'll see.

But mostly I didn't want to meet a bunch of new people on a day when I was stressed out and frazzled. Also, I didn't want to be the girl who didn't know anyone showing up late while everyone's already sitting down to eat or whatever. I'm so LAME! I overthink everything. I'm so fucking socially awkward. I have to get over it. I'm really trying to make an effort to think of ways to get myself out there more. It's going to take some time though. At least I'm working with actual living people now, not just sitting alone in a shack all night talking to passing truckers. Maybe I can hang out with just her a couple times, get to know her better before going to a party. We have talked about taking a yoga class after work. Maybe just if I take it slow I can do it. I'm a nice person, I'm smart and thoughtful - I just get so worried that people judge me harshly. I have to get over it.

I'm not going to be too hard on myself though. Because I think, overall, I'm making some good steps in the right direction. I've got my new job, which hopefully I'll get a raise at soon. In the interview he told me that once I was trained and doing orders and stuff I would make more than I made at my old job. That's why I accepted less while I'm training - with the promise of more to come. I just hope he keeps his word. Because I can't live off $8.50/hr, it just doesn't cut it. I'll give him until after Christmas and then we'll talk about the future, my future there. If I'm not what he was expecting and he doesn't want to pay me more, I'll have to look for something else. But until then I'll just keep trying to do my best work to show him I'm worth it. I'm a lot of things, but a crappy worker isn't one of them. When I'm working, I work my ass off.
And my Mom is going to help me get my license back for my birthday, help with the fines and clearing up the misunderstanding over our same names. That's a long story. But the stupid Massachusetts DMV messed up our info because we have the same, exact legal names. So they gave her an ID with her picture and my info. And now it's a big stupid mess and they want the both of us to come in and prove there are actually two of us. It was their error but they're treating us as if we tried to commit fraud. To what f'n end? Such fraud would in no way benefit me, would it? So why would we do that on purpose? It's making it really a pain in the ass to fix.

Oh, My! It's almost one, Ah! it IS one in the afternoon. And I've got nothing done at all. My house is a mess, I haven't eaten or worked out. I could spend hours on here, checking out what everyone has to say and blabbing myself away. But then I would regret it when I haven't a lick of clean clothes to wear to my job on Monday. Oh my God, if I can find the handbook I'll have to give you a sample of the crazy dress code rules. It's like nothing I've ever seen before. Can you say crazy? But for now I have to run. Literally, in place, in my stinky, dinky living room. But at least I am lucky enough to have an exercise machine at all. Got that in the good ol' days of easy money and drugs, so I won't be able to replace it any time soon. Since those days are long gone. Wish my big, fat belly went with them. I guess I'll have to work on that one all by myself, the old fashioned way, with sweat and tears. Until later, my faithful buddies. Thanks for so loyally enduring my rants, I can't tell you how special it makes me feel when I see your comments. Later.

Parties and Stuff

Well, I am supposed to go to this party/dinner thing at the apartment of one of my new co-workers tonight. On one hand I really want to go, on another I'm scared to go because I will only know two people there. And I only know them from work and not very well at that. I can be rather socially awkward when I'm not intoxicated. And once my inhibitions are lowered I can sometimes scare people because I start to talk about crazy shit. But the girl who invited me, let's call her Ellen, seems really nice and laid back. I know they smoke herb and are into some of the same things as I am, so it will probably be mellow. Mikey, obviously, doesn't want to go since he's lazy and boring. But that's probably in my favor anyhow. I'll be less odd if I'm alone. He makes me kind of embarrased because it's clear our relationship sucks - and we don't need to display it to the world.
On the subject of Mikey...he hates it whenever I try to hang out with anyone, even my own family. It's as if he wants me to be there for him just in case he needs something. Any time I make plans he subconciously sabotages them. He'll suddenly be "so sick, he can't move", or he gets into a car accident or comes home really late so I can't use the car. It drives me crazy. I have, honestly, no friends right now. They have all either moved across the country, or I alienated them with my actions during my heroin stage, or we grew apart because I spent no time with them because I catered too much to Mikey. I hate myself for creating this shitty situation.
But once again, he's just left to go do a bunch of shit just a few hours before I'm supposed to leave. I'm supposed to bring something and I wanted it to be this chocolate cake that I know comes out really good. But I don't have all the ingredients and I know he won't be back in time for me to go get what I need and still make the cake. I'm pissed. But I'm still going to try. I'm going to start getting as much as I can ready. I'm showering now and stuff. So as soon as he gets back, I can go. So maybe I'll be a bit late - better than not going. He's not going to make me sit at home all night while he blows glass or dicks around on the computer. I asked him to stop and get some of the stuff I need and he threw a hissy fit.

Screw this. I'm not letting it be a sucky night. I'm going to the party cake or not. I'll buy something if I have to. I better get started I have so much to do. I should have planned better. I'm trying to get my shit together. At least I quit the other job and it's looking up. Gotta get started. Until later.

Nothing Of Consequence

If reading about sex is going to bother you, don't read the whole middle of this post. Skip to the end or something. It's not described graphically, but it is personal. So if you are a family member of the male variety, you may not want to go there. And if sex otherwise makes you queasy, this may not be the post for you.


I like Rhianna's new album. It's pretty good I think, even some of the slower songs which aren't generally my thing are pretty listenable. I like the one line, "I'm such a fuckin' lady". Because a lot of people think that women who swear must be trashy and uneducated. But that's not true at all. I think you can be a lady and still know when the situation calls for getting down and dirty. Being a lady doesn't have to be synonymous with prissiness. I think the main attribute a lady must posses is being able to handle almost any situation with grace and ease (or what looks like grace and ease by those on the outside, no matter what she may be feeling on the inside). I'm sure there are many who don't agree with me, but that's still what I think. I aspire to be able to deal with anything from a flat tire to making an edible meal with whatever's in the fridge; anything from a crazy person opening fire in a crowded shopping plaza to getting a red wine stain out of a vintage lace tablecloth, all without freaking out. But that doesn't mean a well placed 'Fuck' doesn't have it's place sometimes. Anyhow.....

We had a little bit of snow last night. I love snow, actually. I hated being forced to stand out in it in the middle of the night with massive eighteen-wheelers careening towards me; but from the comfort of a warm place behind glass or down, it's lovely. It looks like a magical wonderland outside of my window. Snow leaves a feeling of peacefulness for me. Some of the best times in my life were in the snow. I'll remember forever some of the days when I lived in this little cabin with the one I may always consider to be my best love, snowed in with a big fire, cuddled up reading or listening to VPR. The cabin getting so hot we would end up laying there naked, perfect, so happy. Often I wonder if I will ever be in love like that ever again. I know I could if I just got out of the rut I'm in. I love Mikey but in the way you love a brother or a best friend. I really hope we can stay friends, but there is no passion. And I'm way too fiery of a person to have such a lack of passion in a relationship.

I get so annoyed when I hear men who complain that there wives or whatever won't have sex with them enough. It's the opposite for me. I'm sure any men who read this will think, "Well, you probably got all fat and ugly and your man is simply disgusted by you". Well, honestly, I have gained a little weight but I still only weigh about one thirty and I'm about five-two. According to self magazine I should weigh one seventeen to be healthy. So I am about fifteen pounds overweight. That's not un-fuckably fat, right? I mean he's no Jude Law, okay. He's a bit flabby himself and I can look right past that. And I'm, like, what you may call fit fat. I had always been really thin and fit until I got off dope and on methadone and I just don't know what happened but I ballooned up for a while. I've lost a lot but not all. But still I have really good muscle tone from being being so active for so long. And I have a decent face, I'm no model but I'm not ugly. So what's the problem? I don't know, he won't ever give me an answer. He says he's tired, or his back hurts, or he used to blame the methadone or the dope. But he's not on it anymore, so what is it? Is he gay?(I don't think that's it because I find hetero porn all over the house when I clean. That's another thing. I don't care if a guy likes porn, really, I don't. But if he can get it up for that, what gives? I'm always saying that it's not fair that he can do it with a fantasy but saves none for me.) What kind of red-blooded man pushes a woman away when she's trying to pull off his pants to suck his dick? I mean, really? Who doesn't want a blow job, like, whenever? Right? I've blatantly told him to start getting it up or I'm getting out, or I'm going to, eventually, cheat on him. And that just sucks. It's ruining our relationship. It really is the main problem. I don't think we would fight so much about other things if we had more sex. I know it stresses me out to not have sex, like, every day. He says that's not normal, but I think it's him that's not right. Maybe everyday sounds like too much for some people. I can be reasonable though. But he doesn't even want to get down once a month, I swear! I'm not exaggerating! Why should I be okay with that? It's messing with my self-esteem, you know? I'm beginning to think it must be me, even though I know, logically, it couldn't be just me. Our sex life was never the best thing about our relationship. But it was passable for a while. I figured we could make it better once we got to know each other better, but we're just at a barrier in our sex life right now. I've always had a great sex life with other boyfriends. Other guys hit on me or look at me like they'd hit it. He won't even have make-up sex with me. He says when he's mad at me, it turns him off and he just can't. WTF? Is he serious? Is he a fuckin' girl, or what?
Sorry if all the sex talk is making some people uncomfortable. I just have to get it off my chest. Whether anyone reads it or not doesn't really matter. I just have to wonder. I don't like to talk to people who know us both about it because I don't want to embarrass him or myself. But it's really taking a toll on me. I feel like I'm wasting some of the best, most fertile years of my life. Despite the fact that I bitch about overpopulation and how I'm not a huge fan of kids, I do actually want to have kids some day. And so does Mike, but I try to explain to him that that's not ever gonna happen if he won't have sex with me. He just ignores me. It sucks because I think he'd make a really good father too. If you saw the way he treats the dogs, you'd think so too. He made a f'n YouTube video of the tricks he taught his favorite. I'm embarrassed to even admit to that. (I'm pretty sure he posted it, but he may still be working on it at the time of this posting. He was trying to erase my voice from the background saying, "This is gonna make people puke".)I told him I wanted no part in it but he made me video part of it because he said he couldn't orchestrate the tricks and hold the camera at the same time. Definitely goofy. But he spoils the crap out of them. And he's really good at taking care of plants. And I believe that if a person or people want to have kids, they damn well better be sure they can at least keep a small animal like a cat, dog, or guinea pig alive. And certain plants take a lot of care and love to keep alive, too. Seeing the way he treats the plants and animals in his life makes me think he'd be good at raising kids. Of course those are not the only reasons I think he'd make a good parent, obviously. I know I mostly complain about Mike, but clearly I wouldn't have been with him as long as I have if he didn't have redeeming qualities. He's a good guy, don't get me wrong but I just get the feeling that we're not meant to be together for the long haul, you know? We just don't mesh as well as I think we could.

On a more positive note......I really like my new schedule, awake in the daytime, asleep at night. It's just so, I don't know, normal. After only a week I feel so much more alive than I have in almost three years. That sounds crazy, but it's true. Maybe even four. Ever since I started working nights. First at Price Chopper, a local grocery store, in the bakery over night. Than at C&S as a "Security Guard", which was the absolute worst. I was talking to Mike about it the other day, and we agreed that it was around the time we both started working nights, about a year or so after we first got on the methadone (yikes, it maybe has been almost five years) that we really started to get fat. I know I'm going to lose weight so much faster now that I'm working a normal job. I'm moving around constantly, eating a normal breakfast, lunch, and dinner instead of just eating crap whenever I could at weird times because of when I had to be awake. And because I'm working at a health food store I'm becoming more conscious of what I eat. I mean , I've always been picky about what I eat. My Mom always fed us well, homemade meals with a lot of vegetables and no soda and very little sweets. And I've always tried to stand by that. I was really into natural medicine and eating all organic and shit like that for years. That's what I studied at Bennington, along with dance. But once I started getting high all the time, I sort of changed my mentality about a lot of things. Some of the ways in which dope liberated me, I'll never regret. But other things I lost, I'll always be sad about. But anyhow, I've been working out almost every day since I started a couple weeks ago. And now it's my primary job, and I'll have a lot more time to spend on improving my quality of life. I really want to lose the rest of the weight I put on. My goal is to weigh one fifteen. That's not that crazy, I'm pretty small. That's about where I should be. I know I will be much happier with myself if I can fit into my clothes without being self-conscious. I hate that. I hate, hate, hate looking at myself in the mirror and thinking, "Ugh, look at that. It looks horrible". I want to think I look hot all the time, not just sort of hot but, like, wicked hot. I can't wait for my hair to grow out. It's really getting better now that it's not totally short, short. Short is NOT my style, trust me. It has to grow fast. I wonder if I could afford really well done extensions? Is that insane? Yes, okay, I know it is. I'll just have patience and try to make it as un-hideous as possible until then.
Oh my God, it's one! I can't believe I've been on here for so long. This things sucks up my life. That's why I haven't been posting as much. Because I'm not sitting at a desk in front of a computer for twelve hours at a time anymore, I don't have a lot of time to post. But now look what's happened, I've let it all cram up inside me and it's come gushing out in a pus of never-ending-nonsense. I'm going to try to post more often. It's difficult to pry Mikey away from the computer. He's, like, glued to stupid facebook games. I hate facebook, it makes me feel lame. Anyhow, I have to run. Literally, run, run on my stupid elliptical machine. So I'm not fat anymore, and maybe my boyfriend will have sex with me before I run away and find someone who will. I guess I don't feel guilty that it's one o'clock in the afternoon. It's Sunday, my day off. I worked hard at my new job this week. As much as I like the job, my boss is kind of a mean dweeb. I thought I was the only one who thought so. But it turns out, so does everyone else. He can hardly keep staff around a few months, I'm told. He's really mean, he accused me of lying already (I didn't) but that's a story for another time. I don't care, I'm not going to think about it. I'm going to try to let it roll right off me. Like my co-worker, the other-worldly handsome one, does. It's as if he doesn't even hear dweeby man's insults and accusations. That will be me too, if I can pull it off. I need the job. Oh, wait, and I was invited to a party!
So for now, Goodbye.

Last Day is Official....but still bitching, Why Not?

It's official. I never, ever, ever have to go back to that awful truck yard ever again! Whooo-hooo!!! I admit, I made an asshole move by calling out of the last two days. I would feel really guilty about it but I know that they would not hesitate to screw me over if they could. In fact, I'm not looking forward to the battle I know is coming over them paying out my vacation time. I know they have to, I earned it and never used it..but they will drag it out in hopes I forget and don't pursue it. Unless of course they were scared by my last e-mail in which I insinuated that the labor board and OSHA may be interested in some of the ongoing safety and human rights violations which take place there on a daily basis. If I were smart I really would pursue such issues - I could probably get some money out of it. Not seriously, I'm not the suing type. I am, however, the type that will fight for justice and the fair treatment of workers. Perhaps once I catch up on the five million hours of lost sleep, I'll look into it.

The night before last, my LAST! night, I had a driver come stomping up to my shack freaking out because he ran out of gas on the main road directly before the entrance to the facility. So he was blocking all the normal morning traffic as well as several tractor trailers bound for C&S on one of the major roadways people use in the area. It was beginning to look like a cluster fuck up there from what I could see. Drivers were laying on their horns, lights flashing, and this guy just gets out of his truck and leaves it sitting right in the middle of the road while he walks all the way, half a mile or so, to bitch at me about it. So I see him coming, thinking he must have broken down due to engine trouble or something. So I ask "Sir, do you need to make a phone call or something?" Immediately he starts half-cry hollering that "there is just NO gas stations in Vermont and what was he supposed to do! And now look what happened! What am I supposed to do NOW!? Call someone, call the POLICE! I need a container!!!" I was at a loss. This had never happened before. Guys had broken down at the gate before, but they were on our property at the time, not a state highway, and they were being polite and we ended up towing them out of the way. But this guy didn't want a tow, he wanted someone from our facility to take him to a gas station to get gas. I said that wasn't going to happen, the best I could do was maybe get him a push into the yard where he would then have to figure something out from there. I didn't even know who in the yard would be willing to put their jobs on the line to help him. It was like he was mad because I wasn't jumping in my own car to drive him to a gas station. What kind of idiot thinks the police are going to shuttle some lazy moron around who couldn't be bothered to fill his gas tank? Police don't even offer to drive stranded motorists around whose cars have legitimately broken down due to no fault of their own. He was stopped right at the top of a hill too. I told him to coast down the hill and move out of the way so people could get past him, and he went ballistic. He was screaming that he wasn't at the top of the hill (I could see the truck, and it was high enough on the hill he would have been fine) and what kind of an idiot was I. I was like, "Look man, don't take your anger out on me. It's your own fault you ran out of gas. You're going to have to calm down while I make some calls to see who I can get out here, if anyone. None of our shop guys are in yet, it's five a.m., you'll be lucky if a yard man answers me on the radio and I can't leave my post." Then he stormed away, shrieking, "Fine! Nooobo-oody wii-iilll helllp meee!" Oh my God! Be a friggin Man for crying out loud! I wanted to be like, "Look, Nancy-man, find your f'n ball sack and coast down the hill and call for roadside assistance like every other trucker in the world. Or better yet, fill the f'n two-hundred fifty gallon gas tank before you're on fumes! Or even fill your back-up tank too! What the hell is wrong with people? I did get the yard men to help him. But, like I told him, all he got was a tow into the yard. But he came walking over later with his paperwork with a smug little smirk on his face which made me think he and the yard men were out there talking about how I was such a bitch or some shit. I hate men like that. Never take responsibility for their own mistakes, and if they don't get the reaction they want from a women then we must be a bitch or PMS-ing, it couldn't possibly be because they are a raging asshole or anything. My God, I will not miss these idiots. I will not miss fat, sweaty, rancid smelling men telling me I need to smile. Why the fuck do I need to smile, MF? To make you feel more at ease, to hide the fact that you make me want to puke? If I never hear another person say, "Oh look at you all bundled up like a snowman, what do you think it's cold or something? What are you you gonna do when it gets really cold?", it will be too soon. I'd like to see any of them do my job, in and out, from the wicked hot, one temp only hot air blower they claim passes for a legit heat system out to the freezing wet cold every two minutes, let's see what it does to their body temperature. I can tell you it sucks. Never again!!!

Well, I guess I should stop bitching about a job I never have to go back to and start cleaning my house. Thank God nobody can see my house right now through this screen. You would all be appalled, and rightly so. It's a mess. I've been working both jobs, then the holidays are always time consuming and stressful, so I've had very little time to clean. And do you think Mike has done anything besides pick up the dog pads for their litter box(he only does that because he can't stand looking at it) and wash one dish at a time for it's immediate use by him? Of course he hasn't. But if you ask him, he's been breaking his back to help out. He can't even make the bed or put away the clean clothes that I washed and folded and put in the bedroom for him. He throws his dirty clothes all over the house. Every morning I clean up the kitchen, wipe down the counters and put all the cereal boxes back up on the shelf, and then he does it all again and leaves it looking like a kitchen bomb went off. It drives me crazy. But if I try to bitch about it, he starts screaming at me, calling me a f'n bitch and all I do is bitch and can't I just leave him alone. It makes me want to skin him alive. So now I don't even bother unless I'm having a really shitty day and he's been particularly messy, I might decide it's worth a battle. Otherwise I simply try to envision what it will be like once I have my own place that will always be clean. The only dishes I'll have to wash will be my own. Worst case, I'll have to make it through the winter, I'll be getting a bundle back for taxes this year. I finally caught on about claiming my medical expenses and other such write offs- hello new(to me, but obviously used) car, and apartment! I did lose it the other day and I grabbed a stainless steel frying pan off the kitchen hook, and very quietly, serenely held it up to my shoulder and looked him in the eye and warned him that if he called me one more name, swore at me one more time and I would put an end to it myself, swiftly with the pan. He stopped, at least for the time being. I was serious. I understand how some woman just snap and murder their husbands because they just can't handle any more abuse. If the looming possibility of a homicide is not enough to put an end to a relationship, I don't know what is.

Later, Maid Nellie is on call.