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09 November 2005 @ 10:12 am
No.  
Well, after thinking the day couldn't be worse it proved me wrong.

I got laid off today. Friday is my last day. I don't know if I'm showing up the rest of this week, though. I may as well, for the money. I'm going to need it.

I just don't understand. My managers don't understand either. They are pissed because they need my help. It doesn't matter. This company is going to fall apart anyways. I could always get a job at Victoria, but I don't really want to go back to that.

I don't know what I'm going to do. I want to move away. I need to move to the city so I don't need a car. I'm very upset. I can't stop crying. It's pathetic. Sitting here at my desk crying. Worthless crying.
 
 
09 November 2005 @ 09:38 am
So I'm about sick of listening to Glenda's drunk ass yell at Brendan and I every night. I just loooove hearing how much someone hates me, how I think I'm perfect, how I don't do a fucking thing around the house. No, paying rent to bitch who is just going to drink the money away isn't doing anything. It is most definitely a waste.

I'm tired of it. I'm tired of her telling her own son that he's a no good piece of shit. The only true thing she says when she's in a rage like that is when she calls him a "son of a bitch". You got that right, whore.

I hate her so much. Where does she get off? She will regret it, though. One day I'm leaving that house, and Brendan is coming with me. If he doesn't, that's his own fault. But if me and Brendan do stay together and we have children, they are NEVER FUCKING SEEING HER. And I will never go to her house again. When I do move out and if I do ever happen to go to her evil home again and she starts screaming and yelling telling us to get the "fuck out of my house", I'm going to beat her ass.

It's a bad fucking day. I wish I had someone to take it out on besides myself.

What pisses me off even more is she's probably being nice right now. She'll be sweet until she comes home drunk and tries to blame all her problems on us.

.Piece.of.shit.whore.bag.fuccking.die.today.
 
 
08 November 2005 @ 02:40 pm
Today I walked and drove through a tornado of leaves. The drive through was much more enjoyable than walking through them and constantly being struck on the forehead and cheeks. When you drive through a tornado of leaves it gives the storm more power. How they are formed to begin with, I don't know. Perhaps the constant flow of cars causes them to rise up and dance. Who knows. It's lovely either way.

I really despise yellow jackets. Two days in a row they've disrupted my lunch break. Two days in a row I've gone out walking because the weather has been so nice, and those damned things are every where. I hate them. Maybe it's because I sat on one of their nests when I was younger. Who knows. They suck either way.

I think I'm going to eat the can of chicken I've had in my purse for about three weeks. My stomach is very mad at me for not eating today, and I feel faint. It's only 70 calories too, so it's not like it will hurt. There is a lot of sodium, but the alcohol will take care of that problem. I wonder why chicken in a can is so good. Because it's easy? You just add hot sauce and go? Who knows. It's excellent either way.
 
 
07 November 2005 @ 10:47 am
So I finally found someone to hang out with. This girl will actually talk philosophy with me. No one else will. But the one I'm talking about is from the last entry. It's perfect. She lives down the street, she drives, she's the same person I knew in high school. Only one thing wrong.

No one else likes her but me. It's funny how if a girl is smart and not soft spoken, she is automatically a dumb bitch. Yes. Brendan and his buddies thought that about my friend. First of all, they said she was loud. That's the hypocritical statement of the fucking YEAR, my friends. The year. If she's loud, then they are fucking trumpeting elephants. Where do they get off saying someone is loud when all they do is holler and scream when they talk to each other?

Second of all, they don't even know her. They were like, "We got a weird feeling". Why? Because she doesn't smoke pot? Fuck that. I don't give a fuck if someone does drugs or not. It doesn't make them a narc. It just makes them a little different. Jack asses.

I'm sorry. It's just very upsetting. I don't have any friends around here. Brendan has tons of people to hang out with. I have.. Trina. Nothing against Trina, but she is the gossip queen, and it drives me insane. She talks shit about everyone, and then when they call her she's all sweet. I can't help but wonder if it's the same way with me.

And then finally someone that lived close by, someone really cool and smart, someone with actual fucking goals. Rather than sit around and get high all day, you know? I admire that. And my boyfriend doesn't like her. Fucking awesome. It's too bad we live together. Then it wouldn't matter.

It's just not fair. And I know shit isn't supposed to be fair, but this is ridiculous. Can I not have one friend? I have friends, but they are all too far away. I can't sit at home and wait for people to visit me. I lose my mind sitting there watching tv all night, wishing I was like my boyfriend with 3893809321 friends. It has to be my fault. I shouldn't be myself. Be fake like everyone else.

yeah right
 
 
04 November 2005 @ 02:01 pm
Friends are few. They are an endangered species. Anyone that's worth my times to hang out with takes a lot of time to get too.

Until yesterday!

I was at the grocery store and ran into an old friend from high school. Well, I've known her much longer than that, since way back in elementary school. But I'm calling her up tonight and we're having a reunion with another old friend who is coming home for the weekend from college. I hope I have fun.

Fun is usually good. Ha.
 
 
 
03 November 2005 @ 11:44 am
Run for the hills.

Brendan and I have been bickering lately. That is, fighting like a brother and sister, like two little children.

"You started it!"

"Nuh uh, you did" *tongue pokes out*

"Waaaha, he stuck his tongue out at me!"

Well, not exactly like that, but I believe the representation is quite similar. It doesn't hurt to fight like that. Fighting in other ways, the ones where you actually mean what you say (yes you are an asshole) and both parties learn something about each other. What do they learn? Just because you're in love, doesn't mean your partner will adore everything about you. Chances are that the longer you live together, the more flaws are revealed. But then with vices come virtues. So hopefully, who ever you live with has an equal amount of both. Enough vices to keep you on your toes, ready to run. And enough virtue to make you come floating back with a smile spreading over your face. Yes, floating. That's what virtues to do you if you love someone.

I believe I have figured out the reason that so many people are getting divorced. 98.9 percent of my arguments with Brendan arise from the bed. No, I'm not talking about sex. I'm talking about blankets, damnit. There is quite simply not enough blanket to go around. This causes what scientists like to call "blanket stealing."

Now, when blanket stealing occurs, the automatic response is to tug back with a sleepy whine to retrieve that square inch of blanket lost. When this phenomenon occurs, both parties become guilty of blanket stealing. The blanket stealer who started it all will promptly blame the blanket stealee. The blanket stealee is appauled, upset. This results in what I like to call a "blanket war". Both parties smooth out the blankets, making sure the blanket is evenly distributed. The lights go out, and someone rolls over. Everyone knows when someone rolls over in a bed, they are trying to steal the blankets. So the stationary person immediately puts up their guard. AKA they clasp the blanket with superhuman strength until it is taut and ready to snap like a whip.

And the blanket war begins. But I digress.

I was getting at the reason for high rates of divorce these days, and how it all begins in the bed. Not so many years ago, people didn't always share beds. At least on tv they didn't. There were seperate beds, two blankets. Plenty of room and blanket for everyone! Since everyone knows that blanket stealers arouse contempt in the human brain, eliminating the environment for blanket stealing to occur is the only way to guarantee a happy, long lasting relationship.

But what to do in these modern times of sex, drugs, and rock n roll? Get two blankets, you idiots. Save yourself before it's too late!
 
 
29 October 2005 @ 01:22 pm
It's not love or sex or money that makes the world go around but the fact of death; that what drives virtually everything we believe and do is the need to reduce, to at least a manageable degree of fear, the terror and panic the anticipation of extinction causes us. (If you can't quite grasp this notion, if you have to be reminded that terror and panic constitute the human default condition, then whatever you're believing and doing is working for you.)

Of the myriad subtle and blatant ways we've come up with to make living with an impossible given tolerable, one example would be the symbolic immortality we assure ourselves of by the making of a scientific discovery, or a work of art, that will continue to exercise an influence on the world after our departure. Another is the accumulation of inordinate wealth. The god-like trappings great sums of money buy enable us to feel not just superior to the common man, but less vulnerable to the common fate. Still another is getting "high," which is about getting ABOVE the body that we know will one day be our undoing.

And then there's our invention of an afterlife. Presenting us with a chance to survive death.

But no one can. Face it, you're going to die.
 
 
28 October 2005 @ 01:08 pm
The fog has been lifted. The pain is gone for now. Someone helped me out, talked the silliness out of my head.

Also, I finally get to have sex tonight. My boyfriend doesn't realize what a lustful creature I am, I assume. But I'm getting some.

That is all.
 
 
28 October 2005 @ 09:11 am
I never thought I'd be feeling like this. Lonely because my boyfriend won't fuck me, I mean. Personal much? Get over it, it's my fucking journal.

I can see why he would feel like this though. If I were a man, and I didn't work and could sit around and look at beautiful girls all day and jack off, I wouldn't have sex with me either. I'm way too ugly for such things. Not only that, I don't feel I deserve the intimate attention of a man. Or anyone. I don't want to be touched. I want to die. Wither away and die. Alright? He doesn't understand anything. I should let him read this journal. Scare him just a little.

There's fog floating on the lake today. It's weird to see still waters crying an upside down fog. I wonder what's in there, floating with the low clouds. If I could, I would go into them and disappear into the wisps. What a beautiful way to go that would be. If only I could walk on water. If only it were shallow enough. No boats, that's cheating. Let me step onto the water, not into. Let me step onto the water, have a dance with the fog, and burn up with it when the sun rises higher. There's no one else in there. I can't be hurt by fog. Fog can't make me feel like the ugliest person in the world. It can't, right?

I need help, but don't know how to ask. I'm dying here. It's time to cut, I believe.
 
 
20 October 2005 @ 09:55 am
That's what I said. What happened? I can't see. I can't feel anything. My eyes are slow to bink, to move, to focus. Maybe coffee is in order? Who knows.

Brendan pissed me off this morning. Ever since he got laid off, he hasn't been doing shit but sitting around the house getting stoned. And it's ok to take a few days, get back on your feet and what not. But it's been almost three weeks and he hasn't even attempted to look for a job.

I work all day. I don't expect him to sit at home and spit shine everything. But he could at least do a little laundry, or fold some clothes. Yesterday I walked into our room and there's a pile of socks sitting on the bed. A fucking pile of socks. Did he save those special for me to fold? I didn't fold them. He won't even empty the trash, or the stupid fucking dish washer. How HARD is it to do that? I'm sure all he does all day is look at porn sites and jack off.

He pisses me off so bad. Today I was running late for work, and right before I got out of the car he grabbed my arm and said, "What should I do today?!"

I blinked at him. "Do? What should you *do*?"

"Yeah, what should I do! I don't want to be bored all day."

So badly I wanted to tell him to get off his lazy ass and look for a job. But I said, "I don't care." And walked away. But I really do care. How do I say something and not piss him off? Or should I piss him off? Christ.

I'm going to rake the lawn today.