They weren't lying. Tonight I came home to an empty apartment. I picked up my toothbrush and a tube of mascara. I texted a friend to see if I could crash on their couch and was on my way. My cats followed me to the door. They weaved between my ankles and twirled their tails around me. And I felt even more sad and more angry. I didn't want to be like my dad. I didn't want to leave for a night (or an undetermined amount of time) because I was angry/scared/tired/hurt/embarassed. I have to face it.
So my in-laws and my husband are headed here to talk. We'll see where it goes.
No one said it was easy. I never thought it was. But no one ever said that you'd actually think about walking out because your mother-in-law is a huge bitch.
11/17/2010
LOL
The people that work here are fucking jerks.
Part of my job is to make sure that people who order stuff from other companies get the stuff and the company gets paid. So I emailed this dude and I'm all, "Dear Sir: Did you get it or what?" Ok. I was more profesh than that. He called me back and filled my ear with lots of heavy sighs and frustrated mumbles about how he already sent a formal letter to someone (that someone being me, but he couldn't fucking remember... and it wasn't a formal letter. It was a one sentence email saying, "I got the shit, yo.") that he got all the junk he wanted. BUT. And these are his words, not mine. "With all the stuff coming in that day I couldn't keep track of whether or not I got everything."
So what this dickhead is saying is that he's not sure if he got all $60,000 worth of stuff. Sixty. Thousand. I freak out if I can't find the damn pair of tights I bought for five fucking bucks. How do you NOT know where this shit is? Some company in rural who the eff knows where is missing out on their money because you're not sure. Way to go buddy, you just got the Shittiest Person Award.
Then this huge bitch intervenes. She's kind of a big deal. She makes the decisions and as her minion I carry out her bullshit. Hey, it pays. Moving on. By the way, we'll just call her The Bitch. I call it how I see it. Anyways. This Jerkoff goes, "Well I'll give [The Bitch] a call. She's an old bugger and I'll tell her [what's up]." I'm all... okay, Jerk. Good luck telling The Bitch that you can't keep track of shit. So I'm expecting a huge blowout, as is my coworker. We're just waiting for shit to hit the fan so we can sit by our coffee maker and go "I fucking told him so." Much to my (our) dismay and much to my fucking annoyance I get an email back from The Jerkoff mocking me. He basically says something like this:
I, The Jerkoff, do hereby confirm that I have all crap that I ordered. I do certify that this order is complete. Add some more dickish words that totally make fun of how professional I was trying to be with him.
There's more, but I can't include it. So The Bitch writes back and says:
Great, you are the bestest, not to mention soooooooooo smart! lol
Really, you stupid dipshits? And yes, she really said exactly that. The Bitch can't even write me back EVER, but she can talk all kinds of fucking cute to some stupid, old mouth breather who has no concept of how to do his job correctly. You guys get paid tons of fucking money and this is how you act in emails. I also forgot to tell you about a previous email exchange in which The Bitch uses fucking nicknames for The Jerkoff and more LOLs than a fucking 10-year-olds text message. In the mean time, I address and sign my emails appropriately WITHOUT mocking people. And I'm an entire two generations younger than these douche bags.
Lately I've been thinking about who would be in my own personal Human Centipede. And after today I finally have my three: Sarah Palin, The Jerkoff, and The Bitch. In that exact order.
Assholes.
Part of my job is to make sure that people who order stuff from other companies get the stuff and the company gets paid. So I emailed this dude and I'm all, "Dear Sir: Did you get it or what?" Ok. I was more profesh than that. He called me back and filled my ear with lots of heavy sighs and frustrated mumbles about how he already sent a formal letter to someone (that someone being me, but he couldn't fucking remember... and it wasn't a formal letter. It was a one sentence email saying, "I got the shit, yo.") that he got all the junk he wanted. BUT. And these are his words, not mine. "With all the stuff coming in that day I couldn't keep track of whether or not I got everything."
So what this dickhead is saying is that he's not sure if he got all $60,000 worth of stuff. Sixty. Thousand. I freak out if I can't find the damn pair of tights I bought for five fucking bucks. How do you NOT know where this shit is? Some company in rural who the eff knows where is missing out on their money because you're not sure. Way to go buddy, you just got the Shittiest Person Award.
Then this huge bitch intervenes. She's kind of a big deal. She makes the decisions and as her minion I carry out her bullshit. Hey, it pays. Moving on. By the way, we'll just call her The Bitch. I call it how I see it. Anyways. This Jerkoff goes, "Well I'll give [The Bitch] a call. She's an old bugger and I'll tell her [what's up]." I'm all... okay, Jerk. Good luck telling The Bitch that you can't keep track of shit. So I'm expecting a huge blowout, as is my coworker. We're just waiting for shit to hit the fan so we can sit by our coffee maker and go "I fucking told him so." Much to my (our) dismay and much to my fucking annoyance I get an email back from The Jerkoff mocking me. He basically says something like this:
I, The Jerkoff, do hereby confirm that I have all crap that I ordered. I do certify that this order is complete. Add some more dickish words that totally make fun of how professional I was trying to be with him.
There's more, but I can't include it. So The Bitch writes back and says:
Great, you are the bestest, not to mention soooooooooo smart! lol
Really, you stupid dipshits? And yes, she really said exactly that. The Bitch can't even write me back EVER, but she can talk all kinds of fucking cute to some stupid, old mouth breather who has no concept of how to do his job correctly. You guys get paid tons of fucking money and this is how you act in emails. I also forgot to tell you about a previous email exchange in which The Bitch uses fucking nicknames for The Jerkoff and more LOLs than a fucking 10-year-olds text message. In the mean time, I address and sign my emails appropriately WITHOUT mocking people. And I'm an entire two generations younger than these douche bags.
Lately I've been thinking about who would be in my own personal Human Centipede. And after today I finally have my three: Sarah Palin, The Jerkoff, and The Bitch. In that exact order.
Assholes.
11/12/2010
Babies Rabies
Please forgive my baby talk. I know the babiesbabiesbabies stuff can be over the top. I do have to talk write myself through it sometimes because I have this crazy theory that karma is going to bite me in the ass and not let me get pregnant ever again and it scares me a bit. I've had two negative tests (I know, boo-freaking-hoo), but they really pissed me off. It's like every time I think I am, I'm not. It's frustrating to have that bit of hope and then see a freaking peestick shouting back at you "Just kidding asshole!"
I had an abortion a long time ago and it's on my mind everyday. I think about friends who have lost their babies or are trying very hard to have babies and I feel like a dick. I got pregnant very easily. Well, maybe I feel that way because I was careless and didn't want a baby, but I knew that what I was doing was going to result in one. I was young(er) and stupid. I chose not to go through with the pregnancy because I wasn't ready to raise a child in an environment that I didn't even want to be in. I didn't want to look at its face feeling like I needed to say, "Sorry I did this to you."
So now that The Dude and are talking about the idea of maybe trying soon (see how wacky and confusing that is?) I can't help but be freaked out. I think sometimes I just want to be pregnant so that I know I'm forgiven (Sorry, I'm Catholic) for my choices. So I can take a huge breath and remember that I'm not a selfish dickhead. This is all so weird. Even more weird is that I'm actually putting all of these craziness into words for someone else to read, evaluate, and judge. Why do I do this to myself?
Maybe I'm hoping someone, other than The Dude, will tell me that it's going to be okay. That's there's nothing wrong with my body or with his body. That the choices I made as a young adult will not come back to punish me or fuck up my plans. Maybe?
I had an abortion a long time ago and it's on my mind everyday. I think about friends who have lost their babies or are trying very hard to have babies and I feel like a dick. I got pregnant very easily. Well, maybe I feel that way because I was careless and didn't want a baby, but I knew that what I was doing was going to result in one. I was young(er) and stupid. I chose not to go through with the pregnancy because I wasn't ready to raise a child in an environment that I didn't even want to be in. I didn't want to look at its face feeling like I needed to say, "Sorry I did this to you."
So now that The Dude and are talking about the idea of maybe trying soon (see how wacky and confusing that is?) I can't help but be freaked out. I think sometimes I just want to be pregnant so that I know I'm forgiven (Sorry, I'm Catholic) for my choices. So I can take a huge breath and remember that I'm not a selfish dickhead. This is all so weird. Even more weird is that I'm actually putting all of these craziness into words for someone else to read, evaluate, and judge. Why do I do this to myself?
Maybe I'm hoping someone, other than The Dude, will tell me that it's going to be okay. That's there's nothing wrong with my body or with his body. That the choices I made as a young adult will not come back to punish me or fuck up my plans. Maybe?
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