Sunday, June 26, 2011

Baby, I have no story to be told

. . . but I've heard one on you and I'm gonna make your head burn

The final straw has been discovered, and while I did not confront Ken (The Pippy persona gets dropped here, he's not good enough for it anymore) with my feelings. I now have a reason to hate him. Last night I had a slight head explosion when I read "anybody got any ideas for babby girl names also anybody have 3 mos support." What in the ever loving FUCK, dude? He deleted it after he was barraged with floods of comments asking if he was having another kid, so I guess no one ever found out what that retarded statement truly meant, but if it's as transparent as he is stupid, it's horrible news. I hope for the hypothetical child's sake that it's absolutely untrue, because no one, no one deserves to have a father like Ken. Also pity the poor bitch who screwed him without protection, because she's in for a real 'treat', no doubt. Then this morning I woke up to find the 'babby' status deleted and replaced with "Damn near went to jail last night thank god for good ol' boy country cops who know who people are." I for one am not thankful for 'good ol boy' cops. I have no idea what this fucker did THIS TIME, but his stupid ass should have been hauled straight off to jail. He's had too many chances. From the law, from me, from his other friends who gave up on him. He learned nothing. God help him, if I find out he's been driving drunk or endangering people in any other way with his stupidity, I will rip his testicles off, coat them in barbecue sauce, and force feed them to him with a hot poker. I should have listened to those weird feelings I got inside me last year when I first found out he was a fucking criminal; I was scared, and for a while was really uneasy being around him. I should never, never have pushed those feelings away and tried to fix him, to love him, to even think about "If you can't beat him, join him." The only person Ken cares about is Ken, and he doesn't care who he has to push, shove, or mow down out of his way to entertain himself. He's become a complete and utterly different person since getting rid of the anklet, and that person kind of makes me want to throw up, though I can't pinpoint exactly why. He hasn't even had eye contact with me in two weeks, and I'd be very happy at this point if it stays that way forever. He's the kind of person who is going to have to hit absolute rock bottom before he straightens out, if he ever does. Something horrible is going to have to happen to him or someone he cares about (if he's capable of caring about anyone at all), before he gets the shock that he needs to stop being a dickhole, put down the liquor an have a nice tall glass of Grow the Fuck Up instead.

So you go ahead and keep on flirting with the law, you worthless redneck shithead. Do it again, and do it soon, and hopefully next time my friend Steve or Robert will be the arresting officer and they have low tolerances for stupidity. Keep on publicly whining about how much you hate being at work and piss off your entire department. You'll show up drunk and hungover one too many times and eventually they will have had enough of it, no matter how much T might like you. Although I'd really rather you didn't lose your job and end up on welfare, because I certainly don't want my tax dollars funding your shens. You had over a year. A year to be a decent person, who couldn't go too terribly wild. You made dozens of friends at Volde-Mart who really like and care about you, now watch as many of them, I'm sure, will drop you like the nasty habit you are because they can't stand your hijinks anymore. Or maybe it's just me. You really, really scare me now and I can't help but be incredibly grateful for the fact that you never found out where I live and you don't know I'll be alone for the next 9 days. I loved the person I knew from last May to this one, but maybe he never really existed and it was all one big elaborate act. He was a great guy, despite his flaws. But the person he turned into is a literal nightmare. Maybe you were always like this. But either way, we're through. Your phone number is gone, the pictures of you on my phone are deleted, and thank the powers I'll never read another one of your drunk updates that sadden me and make me worry myself sick again, only to find it mysteriously gone in the morning. Kindly go burn in hell, just make sure you don't drag any innocent people with you. Have a nice life.

Tuesday, June 21, 2011


No beginning, no end, they just keep going round and round. Sometimes I feel like my life, as well as the way I write here, goes in circles, although technically it did begin somewhere. I'm feeling very anti-Produce Man at the moment. He had his anklet removed Thursday and for the four days following, kept a steady flow of pictures going as well as the occasional status containing the words 'wild night', 'hot tub', 'fake tits' and 'biting'. On one hand I seethed with jealousy and distaste, but the pictures of him out and about (he didn't share the fake tits, thankfully), looking happier than I've ever seen him, made me a little squeeish inside. He was obviously happy and it made me giddy, too; even if I didn't approve of everything he was doing, I was glad he was having a good time. But this was also the telling point of a lot of things for me, the way I see it. Before, I figured he didn't want to talk much, didn't want to have me over, because, well, I'd see the bracelet. Now? Now there's really no excuse. I texted him to give him my new phone number, he never responded. I asked when he was coming back to work because it wasn't the same without him there, and he never responded. He did, however, respond, when I sent him a picture of "Ho-Made BBQ Sauce" that was sitting on a store shelf. The fucker just doesn't contact me. The first place he went after he got loose? Well, some nasty place with his brother in law. Then his sister's river place. Not that he gets in the water or boats. He just drinks and fishes and then drinks some more. Then he hit a bar. And another, and probably another. Got up for work early this morning and lamented the fact he couldn't have anymore shots because he had to work. Got home from work and mused how much he can't wait for another day of laying around drinking cold ones. And maybe hang out with a guy friend and some booze and fishing poles.

I saw him when I walked in today, but he had his back to me and I didn't bother approaching him. He doesn't contact me, he doesn't respond to me. I don't know if he's still hung up on this bullpuckey about 'corrupting' me, in which case he needs soundly smacked upside the head with a sparkly purple strap on, or if he really does think I'm that pathetic and undesirable and to be left in the 'friends at work only' category. Either way, I'm fairly fed up with it. FFS, he's so stupid. I've come to the conclusion that there will never be anything meaningful between us, but at this point I really and truly just want to have fun with him. Mind, I think he drinks too much, but I'd still not be opposed to getting wasted with him on a weekend. Benefits? I think yes, unless he's got something nasty he picked up from a fucking prostitute.

I try, and I try, and I try. I work and scheme so hard to get his attention, to find things to do with him, and I'm forever ignored, or he says yes and has no intentions of following through whatsoever. Why? Because he's a yes-man and doesn't know how to turn people down. He's always said yes. It made him a father at 17. And then again at 24, thinking it would be different, but at least he got his trophy son. "Hey, Pip, traffic these pills for me?" Well, that one landed him in jail. "You want the 5-2 shift even though you'll bitch endlessly about it?" Yes to that as well. From reading FB, I understand he blew off plans with some other coworkers Friday night as well, and claimed he got lost. How in the hell do you get lost with a designated driver in a town you've never left? You just drink and you drink and you drink and hang out with the bottom feeders of the community and worship the ground they piss on. Beer and fishing and fake tits, I get it. I'm books and movies and very slightly games with the occasional vodka and Jager thrown in. I don't MIX the two at once, obviously. We just wouldn't work together because we come from such different worlds. But I do know how to have fun, and he won't give me that chance and it pisses me off more than words can communicate. It's so hard to stop caring about someone, because I won't deny I have feelings for him, and I do love him, in however a strange and blind way. But if I didn't, none of this would bother me as much as it does. I wish I could have seen him for what he was when I first met him; I thought he was a straight-laced good ol' boy, clean and chivalrous and a gentleman. Then he showed a little of his cheek and I liked that, too. I know he's not and never will be the clean cut man I took him for, but it's hard to tell that to the part of you that loves unconditionally. In years past, I've had two men, who started as customers at places I worked, pursue me. Persistently. While I wouldn't touch either of them with a pole, I have to admire their perseverance. Coming through my checkout line or waiting at the front door of the store over, and over, and OVER. Pip only has me when I'm convenient to be there and he doesn't have any other plans. He was on fucking house/work arrest and was probably only so eager to hop in with me and go to food joints because it was literally the only chance he had of getting out without getting in trouble. He doesn't need me anymore, and that hurts. Then I remember that he has said we will do stuff this summer, but I don't think he'll follow through, and that hurts, too. Given the examples of them men I mentioned earlier, I have to concede, that if he were interested, then goddammit, he'd be after me, wouldn't he? I don't know what's wrong with him. Maybe he'll settle down in a few weeks once the shiny newness of his rediscovered freedom wears off and he'll go back to being the same stupid, lovable idiot I used to go to lunch with. Maybe he won't. But if his behavior this past week is any indicator of the 'real' person that he is, then well, I have to say I liked him a lot better while he was on house arrest if being a free citizen turns him into a redneck douchebag. Sometimes I've even wished he'd do something really stupid so he'd land his sorry rear back in jail and I wouldn't have to see him anymore.

The cycle keeps repeating, and I'm tired of it. I fall for him, he does something to make me think we at least have a chance at a fun friendship, that he really does care about me as a person, and then he'll grow cold, ignore me, I ignore him back, get pissed off at him, and start to fall out of love. I'll be nearly done with him, able to walk past him without the urge to go visit him or poke his arm, like this morning. And then sooner or later he gets real friendly again and my hopes soar once more, everyone comments on my quirky or unusually good mood, and Raj the Pharmacist will ask me if I've been swallowing Zoloft. I really hope I don't do this again, but I have a feeling it'll happen at least one more time before this whole crappy situation comes to a head and the pus of angst and bad feelings and broken hearts goes kablooey all over the place. I guess the most logical (notice I refuse to say 'easiest') thing to do would be to sit him down and have a heart to heart, to let him know how I feel about him. Okay, maybe not the "I know what you've done. I know what kind of a person you are and I love you anyways. I've loved you for the past year" thing, but the "Hey, you are a GREAT person and I think you're a lot of fun and I think we should have some no strings attached, weekend fun. We'll be as bad or as good as you like, and you can get as wild and lewd as you want. I also find you incredibly sexually attractive." If he's pleased, great, if he rejects me, that's possibly even better because at least then I'd have a straight answer and, be it right or not, a reason to hate him.

Wednesday, June 8, 2011

Jesus is my virtue, but Judas is the demon I cling to

Gaga is still making sense, HALP. It all goes back to my upbringing again. All my life I believe that drinking and sex were wrong. Well, sex outside of marriage, at least. And now I find the larger part of myself not caring and wanting to go there. Memorial day weekend I packed up car soap, sponges and a brush, picked up a six pack of Smirnoff Green Apple and went to Dixie and her husband's place where the three of us washed our trucks together and got progressively more inebriated as the night wore on. Mind, they know I'm an alcohol novice and kept a close eye on me so I wouldn't become an idiot or spend half the night hugging a toilet. I think mostly we ended up in front of YouTube or the TV or playing Xbox and then watching my Big Bang Theory DVDs until about 2 in the morning. In short, I had a pretty good time and intend on doing it again, even if I . . . I do feel incredibly guilty about it.

Then there's the part of me that really wants to just go ahead and lose the virginity. Not just for the hell of losing it, but . . . you know? Hopefully I'm making sense here. I don't see myself getting married anytime soon, so why not have fun? Pippin has incredibly loose morals, borders on alcoholism, and to put it bluntly just doesn't give a shit. I'm not sure he'll ever settle down or want something exclusive and somehow I'm ok with that and I still want him. We already get along and he's just THERE and single and has a drawer full of condoms sitting around collecting dust. (Dear god, what can I say, I have some weird-ass conversations with my coworkers) He spends most of his free time hosting liquor parties and getting up to all sorts of inappropriate hijinks, and while that once and still does annoy me to some extent, it makes him easy. Listen to me, I mean . . . it makes him easy?! But honestly, the idea of getting him just a little drunk and seeing if being under the influence will make him let me have my way with him has occupied my mind a lot as of late. Getting straight to the point, I seem to have decided that if I can't have him for a boyfriend, I want benefits between us. Like I said, I just wasn't raised to think or behave like this and it's frightening and empowering at the same time to just embrace it, and my biggest fear is the risk of getting pregnant rather than what my family would think. It's gotten to the point where I think Mom knows that I get up to stuff she wouldn't approve of. But all she says now is “Any kind of drinking, partying, going to jail . . . if it happens, I don't want to know. Just DON'T come home drunk and don't expect me to bail you out. But really, I just don't want to know.” What she'd say or do (since I live at home rent free) if I ever succeeded in my plan to seduce my friend I don't know, but I plan on doing my damndest if I can manage it. I keep making comments at him about taking him away or kidnapping him for the weekend and he'll somewhat reluctantly agree that we could try going to the river or something like that and then follow it up with “But I don't wanna corrupt you.” Ah, there it is again. Do I really come across as that innocent? Even when I was a church mouse, the guys, and girls, for that matter, would treat me like I was the innocent little baby sister and I hated it. I kind of thought Pips was different in that he doesn't stop himself from having lewd conversations with me or while I'm in earshot, but I guess it still nags at him like it did all those members of the contemporary Christian band years and years ago. Pip honey, my mind is a fucking cesspool and honestly I think a little corrupting would do me some good at this point. I don't wanna end up that lady who lives with dozens of animals (oh god, I'm already halfway there!) and dresses her dogs up in clothes. Although I have to say two of my friends in the pharmacy do this and they're wonderful gals. Married though. Let's just say I don't wanna end up a 60 year old virgin who dresses up her dogs. I know you're a nasty horny little bastard and our conversations have gotten more 'comfortable' and dirty over the past few months. I know you were a little drunk when we had the whips and cuffs talk and you said you like to be punished, but you were sober as a judge when you made that comment about the quiet ones being the ones you had to watch for, and 'damn I bet Shiny's a freak, aren't you?' and I haven't forgotten. That tells me your mind WENT THERE, at least once. Your mind might be wrapped around me a little better than I thought, but gods please don't be afraid to 'corrupt' me, although that's sweet of you to be cautious. I'm not sure how you can be such a gentleman and such an immoral bastard at the same time, but I love it. If someone pulled Sawyer and Charlie out of LOST and combined the characters, well, they'd have you.

Sorry for the frankness of my post tonight, but I want to be 'corrupted' as everyone jokes about me. I want this man to corrupt the hell out of me and I wonder if he'd be willing to teach me everything he knows if he found out just how inexperienced I am, if he hasn't already realized it.

Yes, I blame Lady Gaga.