This is an awkward conversation.

You're saying some bullshit about a night at the bar. I'm saying some bullshit to pretend I give a shit.

What I'd really like to say is more along the lines of:

Dude, why the hell are you even talking to me? You've proven your shittiness to me time and time again, and I made it clear, I'm sick of you and your bullshit.

Friends means that you at least give me a truth once and a while. I can look past pretty much everything aside from that. But since that's too much for you, friends we ain't, and you should realize it.

Work is boring shit.

I'm getting fired from the bookstore. After five years, I'm getting fired because my boss thinks it would be good for me to go do something else.

I'm not really that worked up about it. It's bullshit and stupid, sure, but she really thinks she's doing me a favor, so I can't be mad with her. I think a bigger favor would be to, oh, I don't know, maybe pay me more money, like what I made when I started there (somehow, I went down in payscale over the last few years, rather than up), or to maybe give me more hours or something, so that I don't have to work three jobs just to be able to keep my truck running.

All that said, I don't really give a fuck if I'm fired. I don't really give a fuck if I don't have an insured truck, either. Even out of gas, I can still relax in it and smoke up, and really, the only reason I need a vehical at all is to come into town and go to work. Remove the work, and I can happily sit at home and relax. There's an advantage to disliking most of your friends - you don't feel any really urgent need to go see them, so I don't really need a car of my own for that, either.

Besides, if I'm really so inclined, I still have this boring ass job at the mall. It sucks, sure, but it's become obvious that no one even gives a shit if I actually show up (as with the management and everyone else who works here), so I can easily go sack out and nap all day, while getting paid a little bit of money for it.

I think if Kris goes through with this, I'll just sit back and enjoy being unemployed for a good long while.

New Years Aftermath

As I keep finding things that have been fucked with, I keep wanting to come and yell at you for it. Not cause I'm really mad or anything, I'm just dissapointed that you weren't watching better. I trusted you to take care of things, and thusly enable me to go do whatever I wanted and enjoy myself. I realize the place wasn't destroyed, but it's becoming more evident that that's more because we don't own anything heavy enough to knock down the walls.

That said, I couldn't actually yell at you for it. For one, I like you too much and it would probably unintentionally cause a fight that wouldn't be worth it, and for two, it's pretty much my own fault for not sticking around to make sure things weren't being fucked with. There's not much I can do but sit and laugh at myself, then count through my wallet and hope I can cover everything.

Wunderbar!

I found all my Lego when I was smoking up in the garage yesterday! :)


...


Shut the fuck up, I think it's the best thing that's happened to me in weeks. Who the hell doesn't like Lego?

Three things I learned today:

1. People from Deerfield, Illinois, are really bad at hiding the fact. Bad enough that I could guess the exact town from a few minutes of conversation (if you want to know how, they mentioned working in a pharmacutical company, all the major U.S. ones being located on the east coast. After that, it's just a little paying attention). For once, I actually had fun with a guessing game, especially since my useless knowledge of something actually convinced someone I was a genious for once.

I'd let that totally go to my head now that I think about it, if I hadn't just re-read this post in it's entirety.



2. After enough use, the can of beer you've been using as a cup for your sink because you're too lazy to walk upstairs and get one will lose that three week old beer after taste, and totally be worth not having to go up and down the stairs all the time.



3. You can't make soft-shell tacos out of cheese, hamburger, and old pancakes. Or at least you shouldn't. It just doesn't work. At all. Ok?

Yo Marissa! In case you got this far back, I lied. This was the one about you.

I hate this job. There's not anything to do here. I could easily spend the next few hours napping in Irlene's office (I mean, she gets away with it without locking herself in), and I wouldn't miss shit.

This is not a great start to the new year so far, but I guess at least I HAVE a job, which is more than alot of people can probably say right now. Thank Goddess the recession have much to do with or about books or malls that don't make any money anyway.

Speaking of New Years, L. had her party at my house. Things actually went really smoothly with a few exceptions. Basically, it was an ok time, but apparently I still don't have any friends I can just get smashed and relax with. Until I meet someone else either uptight or mature (depending on what you want to call it) enough to look after everything, I guess I'll be having single vodkas and playing babysitter.

My New Years goal is to track down Nikki. I feel like shite about the way that was all handled (it's a longer story than I want to write right now), so I'm going to try to put a little time into finding out what happened to her and how she's doing.

I think I'll also get the tattoo this year. Really, the only reason I haven't already is because the tattoo place is always closed when I get off work, but I think I'm going to quit everything for a couple months because I really would like a break, and will have time then.


Hm, this only took a few minutes. I'm tired of being chilly, or I'd go outside and have a smoke.

I think I need to buy cigarettes anyway. Maybe I'll go do that.