Sunday, January 15, 2012

What is this? Smells like piss, piss with ink!

A small side note to start with (I'm sure that's not proper, beginning with a side note, but . . . yeah) right after I finished the last entry, my Dad approached me solemnly to say he was concerned . . . about . . . ("Oh god", I think "He knows about my tattoo.")

But no. He was concerned about the music I was listening to, and the fact that I end up staying up half the night with my friends, because "Nothing good ever happens after midnight and I . . . I wonder if they're Christians." At this point I told him there was nothing to worry about and blew up at him, yelling that all the "Christian" friends I had treated me like dirt under their shoes and that I was tired of it. Then Mom, who had been in the shower came out and exploded as well because she's tired of him waiting until she's out of the room and then cornering us to preach like that. For a few minutes, I thought he might ask me to pack up and leave, but he didn't. In fact, he didn't speak to me again for nearly a day and then acted as if nothing had happened. This, my friends, is exactly why I can't live here with him.

Anyways, I'm not really concerned with that right now. I'll just keep my head down and start a savings account and keep working to fill it up.

Today I'm once again feeling I have serious issues with my friend from work, Dix. You know, the one who I keep having to help move. She and her husband finally got an apartment last week so now she wants me to come over all the time. Which is all good and well, I guess, except . . . it's disgusting. Mind, it wasn't when they first moved in, but it is now. Friday night I came in after I dropped her off from work, and as soon as the front door cracked open, I was hit with the overwhelming smell of cat piss and shit. This was a lingering smell at their old house, somewhat, but being that the apartment is very small, it's much, much worse here. It only got worse the further in I went. I opened the door to the laundry room where the cat and dog are kept when no one was home and quickly exited before I passed out from that acrid stench. She came in and noted that her husband must not have cleaned the litterbox and was pissed off at him. Even though it's her cat. She said she'd do it later.

LATER?! Seriously?!

She also thinks nothing of not washing one's hair for up to a week at a time, not brushing teeth at least daily, and skipping a shower every now and then, even if you have someplace to be.

Fast forward to yesterday. We were both off this weekend, and generally I wouldn't have minded helping them, if she'd given me notice. I took Mom and Charles out to Applebee's, accompanied by his gf and her very creepy mother whom I dislike very much. After that was grocery shopping at Volde-Mart, where I splurged and bought Pirates of the Caribbean: On Stranger Tides. We were in the middle of watching said swashbuckler when I heard my phone ringing. Nope, not answering that. I knew who it was. I fired off a text asking why she called, and she just wanted to 'check if I was busy'. Yeah, as a matter of fact, I was busy at least for a couple of hours. With the boss giving me 40 hour weeks, I've had little time for R&R with Mom and Charles and we were all enjoying ourselves, thankyouverymuch. Later on in the evening, she asked me to come again. I asked if we were getting the couch out of storage. "No, just boring unpacking." FFS, I saw where this was going. I was going to go over there and a whole lot of fuck all was going to get done, but for some reason I got dressed and started driving over anyways. Get a few miles down the road, receive another text. "Just to warn you, the toilet has been backed up since yesterday so the house might stink. Sorry."

What the actual fuck, no. This was NOT how I was going to spend my Saturday night. I pulled over, texted back that I had a horrible onset of diarrhea while getting ready to leave, and that I wouldn't be able to leave the house. She may or may not have seen through that, but at this point I really don't care. WHO in their right mind thinks it's ok to ask someone to come over while sewage is stewing away in the toilet of a very small building? It probably still smells like unchanged catbox, too. I can only overlook so much, and I draw the line at literal SHIT. I just can't get over how incredibly disgusting that is. If there is something that exited an orifice, be it from animal or human, my opinion is that it should be cleaned up and/or flushed ASAP. Later that night I got a text letting me know that she was, in fact, lying in bed watching TV. I'm sorry, getting that toilet fixed or at least plunged would be my top priority, screw what I might want to sit and watch. And also proves that I would have gotten over there and done fuck all in the realm of unpacking. Just thinking about this makes me want to tie a handkerchief over my face and go nuts in MY house with my trusty little bleach/water spray bottle, and it's not even that bad.

I don't want to go over there anymore, at all. And she wants me over ALL the time now, because it's been so long since she had her own place and I guess she gets bored with her husband at work. But I just can't. I'm gonna have to pull some really awesome excuses out of my little white ass because I don't think I can be brutally honest enough to tell her that her house is a sty and that I find it revolting. And I certainly ain't having my birthday there, or asking Pippy to come over with me. He's always going on about how he hates people making a mess in his house, spends half his days off cleaning, and even burns scented candles. He'd be equally nauseated, methinks.

Then there's the issue of . . . food. Dix is very, very large. I'm not exaggerating, she is at least 350 pounds. At least. She has difficulty moving around, horrible arthritis, and is constantly losing balance and falling at work, leading to further injuries. And has no intentions of changing, always saying she proudly admits to being a 'fat girl who loves her food' and posting dumb pictures and quotes all over FB about how being fat is ok. I'm sorry, at this point, it is NOT ok if you lose your breath sweeping a small room. (which I tried doing for her, because it was at the room she was staying in at someone's house and she wouldn't leave until she cleaned it up even though they told her it was ok. I tried doing it for her to speed things up, because I was fucking TIRED OF WAITING, but she wouldn't let me! It must have taken over 20 minutes.) It's NOT ok if you are pulling muscles just giving yourself a shower and have the mobility of someone twice your age, no! At this point, her life is in danger. How does this relate to me? Well, like many people, I decided that I was going to treat my body a little better with the start of a new year, so I've been packing a lot of salads to eat on lunch break at work. Which she keeps trying to 'supplement' by buying bbq pork sandwiches and boiled eggs and slapping them down in front of me, saying I need more than 'bird and rabbit food' and that I don't need to change. I try not to complain about my weight in front of her since she makes two of me, but I really wanna ditch the sausage arms and muffin top that I loathe so much. Is that so bad? It's not the end of the world if I don't want to eat myself into a stupor every day to the point I can't properly function when I go back to work. I eat just enough to feel full and regain my energy, and I'm usually not hungry again at least until I go home. If she's comfortable being heavy, fine. But I'm not, and I wish she'd stop trying to change my eating habits back to the way they were.

I'm thinking it's once again time to distance myself from this person. It's clear that anyone who neglects themselves and their living area like that has issues, but she obviously has no intentions of changing and I can't participate or enable anymore. Enough is enough.

Sunday, January 8, 2012

I think I've discovered the polar opposite of "Empty Nest Syndrome"

And I do believe I shall dub it "Restless Little Birdy Syndrome", and I have a full-blown case of it. There are nights like tonight, during which I sincerely wish I was doing something more interesting and engaging than eating a salad and listening to film scores on YouTube. I do plan on changing this in the future, probably within the next year or so. You see, next winter, Dad will be able to retire and live off of a social security check every month, with maybe a small job on the side. Meaning he is going to be spending a lot, a lot of time at home. While I love both my parents dearly, I know that me continuing to live at home after he's retired would no doubt ultimately end in a sad falling out and be the end of our relationship. I can barely stand it when he comes home now. It saddens me to say that it's non-stop stress, literally from the moment he pulls up to the moment he drives away. Over Christmas, I offended him at least twice, just because of the shirts I was wearing. One said "Nice until proven naughty". No Dad, I do NOT wear that shirt to work, although I did see some people doing so and we were allowed to given that it was holiday related attire. Christmas Eve, I got dressed and went out to buy pizza for everyone because I thought a decent meal was called for, given my brother was up for the first time in over a year, and it was CHRISTMAS, (well, almost), and I don't think "a bowl of cereal or peanut butter and jelly" constitutes as a very nice way to celebrate. Blah. Anywho, I was wearing my Iron Man/AC/DC shirt and that earned me a lecture on how "hard rock" will control my mind. FFS! Then there are the weekends, like right now. What is the point of having so many weekends off work if I do nothing with them? I'm so, so very tired of spending every single Sunday (Oh my giddy God, Christmas was no fucking exception!) with old crime drama reruns playing from 1 in the afternoon past 8 at night.

I just can't live with old people anymore, I'm going to go bonkers right out of my poor mind. Mom is always sitting. Literally, sitting. I know she's in her sixties, but honestly, the TV goes on when I'm up getting ready for work, then she goes back to bed after I leave. Gets back up, turns on the Price Is Right, watches that, news, gameshows, and westerns until it's time to feed the horses. Comes right back in, sits down, and watches MORE TV until 11:30 at night. There are week old dirty dishes in the sink, the floor is covered with dog hair and Eru knows what else, and gravy from Christmas dinner is still in a brown, sticky, dried up mass on the stovetop. If she wants to live like this, fine. But it's not healthy. I come home at night and she announces to me that she 'rested' all day like it's something to be proud of. If dad calls and asks what she's doing, she screams "I'M RESTING!!! I'm TIIIIRRRREED!"

I hate it. This is what LifeScript and the glamour of being a stay at home Mom does to some people. Sick.

Anywho, I've been watching the local real estate. Egads, so much cheap, repossessed property if only I could afford it. However, I have this pesky auto loan to pay off. There is roughly $8,000 left on it and I hope to pay it off my this time next year. I've started putting extra on it, it's only $37 a month, but it's something. It helps that Tardy left because her pregnancy was complicated and delicate (Gee, didn't see that coming, ha!) and I've been getting a solid 40 hours a week, if not more. Once the truck payment is gone, I'll have $400 a month to dedicate to house payments, which probably won't even take that much because I've looked around and I can get one as cheap as $81 a month if I go for a repo.

Mentioned it this morning as I was browsing the foreclosures online yet again, and was met with Dad saying "Yeah, but you don't want to do that. You wouldn't like living alone." No, perhaps not all the time, but I can always visit. And I can have my friends over and not impose on him or Mom. Besides, I know that would be a disaster in the making, as my friends are rowdy, loud, raunchy, lacking slightly in manners, etc and so forth. They do know how to behave, but they're so much more fun to be around when they don't. Also I'd rather them not get home-grown sermons, because a large percentage of them are openly gay/bi or extremely supportive of LGBT. Then I wouldn't be sitting at home on a Sunday night like this, eating salad while the expanded score for At World's End makes love to me through the headphones.

NYE was a no go; I got invited both to V, an older tech's house, and to Tardy's place, but I declined both. (Dixie hadn't gotten the new place yet) I had to work the next day and wanted to sleep in my own bed. I also correctly foresaw myself not even making it up till midnight, for the first time since I can't remember when. And there was no way in hell I was going to Tardy's place anyways - these days she refuses to converse about anything unless it has to do with her, her husband, or her pregnancy, topics of which none I find remotely interesting considering how much she ran them into the ground at work. We're planning to make up for it soon, though. Dixie will have something at her house, be it this month, or maybe next for my birthday. There will be an abundance of alcohol and Volde-Mart employees, and it will be amazing. Pippy and his brother will naturally be invited, but oddly enough, the idea that they might not show up doesn't bother me much. There's also the possibility that Johnny will show up on his own, which tickles me as well. Gay, bi, whatever he is, he's a pretty sweet person. I think I'll keep him. Pip I've been 'meh' on as of late. He talks when he sees me, but he's getting very wild and evasive again, goes absolutely batshit crazy on his days off, and Friday when I saw him getting ready to clock out, he was with one of the girls from his department. He walked up, slammed into me and then said I still owe him cake, but that he doesn't want carrot cake anymore, he wants red velvet cake. Not a damn box cake, either. Or dirt pie, dirt pie would also work. He clocked out and kept muttering nonsense about dirt pie, oreos, and cream cheese with his coworker on his heels wearing a very puzzled, slightly worried expression. I think he might have been drunk at work again, or he was just in a really weird mood. BG: I "owe him cake" dates back to months ago when I wrote "Go Noles!!!!" in the dirt on the rear window of his van. He supports the 'Noles rival team, and didn't think it was very funny XD. Ever since then he's been asking for cake to make up for my horrible behavior.

Next weekend, perhaps, we'll do something fun. I am in need of a little liquid therapy, methinks. It's the first of the year, which means lots of insurance renewals, which is annoying because people forget and then present their new insurance cards at my cash register, then get pissed when I send them to the window. There are also the hordes coming to us from Walgreens, who for some reason has decided they will no longer accept Tricare insurance, as well as another popular insurance. Since the third, we have been yelled at, rushed, insulted and just plain overused and abused, and I've had enough of it. Some whiskey and rum will do us good, LOL. Dixie is moving into her new apartment this week, which is a relief in and of itself. I was so glad to get her out of that hellhole of a 'friend's' house she was in. It's a true sign of friendship to say "You have three hours to get out" five days before Christmas, no?

Anywho, that's all I have to say right now. I might tap out a post about work sometime this week. I'm excited and apprehensive about the possibility of moving out late this year or early next, but mostly excited. No more hiding, no more keeping secrets, and I can have my horrible, alcoholic, gay, drag queen friends over anytime I please.