Work

Interesting Phenomenon: The Pawn Shop Run In. It happened twice today. It happens once a day on average. Somebody is at the counter, they turn around and bam. Someone they know. Everyone always asks, "What are you doing here?" Bitches, really? What the fuck do you think? They always reply, "Trying to get some money." This one woman who comes in (drunk) frequently, came in yesterday, she saw someone she knew. She came in today, saw someone she knew. I'm starting to think the bitch just knows everybody. Correction, men never ask. They shake hands do the man thing, shoot the shit and go their separate ways. Sometimes it is a long lost, squealing kind of run in. Sometimes it's a neighbor. Sometimes it is so crowded you would think we are giving shit away free, and it surprises me that I don't know anybody in the pawn shop.

One of the guys I work with smells. BAD. So we all joke about how bad he smells. We all have ideas about why. It was suggested that we all put are ideas in a hat and draw to make a decision on which one is the one we are all going to agree upon. I don't know if I mentioned when Jessica and I were in the thrift store and the bum came in who shit his pants. Either way, it doesn't matter. What matters is that the 25 year old I work with smells like that bum. Not quite as potent, but pretty close. Like I can smell him for four feet kind a bad. One coworker thinks he doesn't wear underwear because he is always picking at his crotch. That doesn't explain the smell. But I guess if he wears his pants multiple times. Oh, god. It is so gross. He also has no boundaries. He gets really close. Sometimes his funky ass smell makes me want to gag. Literally. Just for the record, I know body odor. It doesn't bother me. This is no sweat smell. This is some ass cheese funk that smells like a homeless person.

The missing

I think I need to poor a little out for my homie this weekend. Maybe even say a few words. I'm having massive issues with the loss of my camera. Flickr isn't helping any. It is a daily routine for me and every day it just laughs in my face. Sometimes I think, Oh, that is really pretty. I want to take a picture ... Then the crushing defeat settles in and takes a tumultuous nap in my heart. I swear I miss that camera like a person. Or a limb. I mean, I have never lost a limb, but I can sympathize with phantom pain a little better. It has been about 4 solid years of taking pictures all the time. 4 solid years of having a camera. This is the worst break up I've ever had. I didn't touch my camera every day so the pain sneaks up on me and bitch slaps me when I'm least expecting it, worse yet, when I am having a really nice thought. Now, every time I'm inspired by something I feel bad. That can't be a good thing.

Highlight of my day-

Bleach pen.

I'm such a loser.

Jessica and I went to the thrift store. I found a super cute dress. It fit like a dream. It could use a hook and eye on the top of the zipper, but other than that excellent. I think it was 7 dollars.

Until I got it home. I went to wash it and found some stains in the back at the bottom of the dress. Bummer. They weren't terribly noticeable, they kind of looked like tea. So I thought I would wash it and see what happens. Nothing, that is what happened. The stains weren't ruining my life or anything, it was only 7 dollars after all. But it was mocking me from the closet.

I regrouped. Bought a bleach pen. Then used it tonight. I'll be god damned if that motherfucker didn't work like a charm. No more stains. The whites are white, the greens are still green.

Resounding boo-ya.

Bleach pen.

Let's play a game of "My Life" hour by hour style

Midnight- Go to bed

2 am- Grubb wakes me up

4am- Carry Grubb outside to pee

4:15am- lay in bed thinking I'm wasting time just laying here not sleeping

7am-Carry Grubb outside to pee

7:15am refuse to get out of bed because I had the alarm set for 8

8am- Fuck it I'm sleeping until 9

9am- Snooze

9:15am- Take a 10 minute shower

9:25am- Race to the vet's office to get Grubb a new veil of shots

10am- Come home. Carry Grubb outside to pee

10:15am- Eat something

10:40am-Leave for work

11am-8:30pm- write 18 loans and sell 350 dollars worth of stuff (18 loans is a lot, like five more than the closest person, everybody else was at about 5-7 today)

(Lunch break: Race to money box, Race to bank, go to eat food)

8:45pm- Stop by the grocery store

9pm-Arrive at home

9:30pm- Skype

10pm-Harrass Grubb awake to take him outside

10:15-Change the sheets

11pm- Give Grubb pain pill, Watch an episode of Season 2 Dead Like Me

Midnight-Start all over

Exhausted.

P.S. My room smells like farts.

Please don't judge me

by what I'm about to say. But judge the shitty time I'm having in life. Please. I beg. ...

I need to find a new television series that I like so that I have something to look forward to.

Yeah. Just thinking it made me cringe. I'm like a sad lonely fat girl who spends Friday nights watching prime time.

New Day

I'm so exhausted. I want to sleep for three days. Leaving bed is a challenge.

For some idiotic reason I thought moving back in with my mom would make everything feel better. I thought I would feel safer, maybe less anxious or something. I feel less irritated that is for sure, but way shittier for other reasons, like I'm pushing 30 and living with my mom.

I haven't been to work yet and I'm already ready for the weekend. I just keep telling myself only 5 more days until the weekend. I may just sleep through Saturday and Sunday.

The emotion see-saw

So, so tired of the emotion see-saw. Yesterday, totally fine. Today, depths of despair. Tomorrow? Who knows, but I reckon it will be better. It's so frustrating. Then I started thinking why am I so down. Then I made a list in my head. That did NOT help.

Long, boring story short: all I can hear is my voice urging me to leave town, leave the country, just go anywhere else. Get away.

All I can figure that means is that I need to seek professional help.

Good morning sunshine

On this lovely morning I was awaken by the sun blaring through the two inch gaps on either side of the mini blinds. There was a tree right outside the window doing a little to shade those gaps from direct sunlight. Sometime yesterday evening the landlord cut it down. Then he put it in the street right where I park. Meanwhile, across the street there is a HUGE pile of tree branches the length of two cars. Naturally, I don't want to park under that tree. One- bird shit, two- the last time I did some cunt parked in front of my house and talked all night, three- giant branches fall off of it, better safe than sorry. So I moved the branches to the obvious place instead of where tenants would park. I'm pretty sure my landlord is a special needs kid.

Grubb sleeps all the way under the bed. When I lay down at the bottom of the bed I can hear him snoring. It is really relaxing. It feels like we are in bunk beds.

This old shit hole

I have to say, I was scared of being alone in my house during the day. At night it doesn't bother me for some reason. I didn't notice until the second I got to my mom's it smelled like home and I relaxed. At one point I was packing my car and the guy across the street called his dog, but I hadn't seen him or the dog. When I heard him I jumped.

I have this really uneasy feeling. Especially at work. It isn't unlike the feeling I had in Korea. When you go to all the same places you know people recognize you, because you are the foreigner, but you don't recognize them, because they are just a sea of faces. In this case, there are people out there who know what I look like, who have my full name, and I don't know what they look like. What if they do come into my job? It is very unsettling. It feels like somebody is watching me.

There are things I will miss about this house. Not one of them has to do with the actual structure. The least of which is the fact that it is hot all the time, because the piece of shit is like a colander. It lets all kinds of bugs in too.

Lessons in letting go

Not so long ago, before me and MP were best friends we were penpals. I told him in one electronic letter that there were two material things in my life that I didn't want to get rid of, not for what they were, but for what their function was, everything else I could give a shit. Can you guess what those things were. My computer and my camera. Before I left for Korea he asked why I didn't get rid of all my pictures. Since I have flickr it is just wasting space on my computer. I told him I couldn't. I just couldn't let go of multiples of pictures that are 1mm left or right. Well, now I know. I can let them go. I'm not quite over it yet, but I will be soon. Though, I'm pretty sure it will always sting a little. The only other thing in my life that I hang on to are shoes. I thought about selling them today. I had thought about it last year too. It didn't happen. I think I want to let them go. Compared to my pictures they don't mean shit. Why can't I just get rid of them. I'm gonna try and get rid of them. I'm gonna let go of my hair too.

*I do have sentimental things that I hold on to, but it is mostly papers and books.

When life gives you shit...

Make a shit sandwich. Why not, you know you're hungry.

The weird ways of Grubb

Grubb is the ultimate weirdo these days.

Have I mentioned he only makes right turns. The vet thinks it is because he is favoring his left leg. I don't know. He seems to make right turns when right turns aren't necessary. Sometimes he walks in the tiny space that we have left to walk in due to packing, goes as far as he can makes a 180 degree right turn and walks back. Over and over. When I say goes as far as he can I mean face in corner.

He also really likes to scratch at things. He spent one week in the bed I made him. Now he likes to sleep mostly under the end of the bed or all the way under. If there is one piece of clothing in the whole 7 feet down there he scratches it like he wants to lay on it but just moves it all to one pile near the door. I woke up this morning to my dirty clothes rearranged.

And finally, he has taken to shitting on the street. He doesn't want to walk in the grass. He will pee in the grass, but I guess he draws the line at shitting.

He has always been a strange little dog. It just keeps getting weirder.

I really want my hair cut like this

In fact this woman has been upgraded to love of my life.

As I told MP: I'm having a crisis so I want to cut my hair, which could make my crisis worse. I'll try not to. I want to though.

The tides of change

I feel good things coming my way. Ok, so MP isn't here. I'm not getting laid (mostly because I'm just not interested in people these days, it's weird). But I feel a change in the air. Sometimes really bad shit has to happen so that when good happens you appreciate it.

Examples:

• My mom came over on my day off and parked under the tree across the street. About five minutes after she arrived somebody knocked on the door. I heard her talking to a man and I went outside after her and he was telling her about the tree limb. I giant part of the tree broke right as he was getting into his car. He heard it and came and knocked on the door to tell the person with that car. Luckily, that giant branch didn't fall but was hanging by some bark. My mom moved her car. A few hours later before the city could get there it fell. Narrow escape.
• Today at lunch I went home. I live really close to where I work so I drive home everyday. I was the first at the light and I had gone into a zone. I was staring off into space. When I came to, I realized that the light was green. Right then an eighteen wheeler blew threw the red. Had I not been daydreaming I would have died. Narrow escape.
• I just generally felt better about life today. I have dealt with the fact that I am moving back in with my mom until MP gets back. I'll keep looking for a place. I can move out closer to when he gets back. I can do this. It isn't that bad. Grubb will have a doggy door. Maybe he won't have as many accidents. I will be closer to Kyle so we can give Grubb his shot. It will be okay.

New subject:

I bought a backpack tonight. It is really hideous. If someone happens to steal my backpack this time there will be no blending in. It is the color of baby shit. I told MP I'm going to put a giant sticker on my computer that says "I love to suck DICK!" So that if someone steals it they will be too embarrassed to sell it. Then I thought they could always get their girlfriend to do it. So I started thinking up things that both men and women would be embarrassed about. Like, "You could drive a car through the tunnel that is my asshole"....Too long.... "I dig Chicks with Dicks!" That's a good one. I'm not gonna lie, I do kinda dig it. Not in a turned on way, but a fascinated way. But then it is really inappropriate for family oriented places. You can't really go to public places and use your computer. I can just hear it, "Mommy, what is chicks with dicks?" I'm pretty sure I could leave my computer unattended on the pawn shop counter and no one would steal it with that all over it.

I need a really good patch for my backpack too. I wish there was teal paisley on it. If only I could have everything exactly how I wanted it. Who am I kidding. I never would have bought this backpack had mine not been stolen. I think I wanted that.

Remember when,

Remember a little while ago when I wrote about how much I hate Walmart? That was because I couldn't get the money from my job that I worked for. Here we are again. I have received one paycheck from work without a hitch. The 10th was payday and I still don't have access to my money. I'm almost certain that I won't until next Monday at the earliest. The bank doesn't want to do anything on Friday. This is a different problem of course, but I'm pretty sure the universe is telling me I shouldn't have a job. Or it's telling me that it wants me to be a slave. Or that working for the man gets you no where, it only breaks your spirit and spits you out.

I also think the universe is taking a mighty big dump in my mouth right now and I wish it would finish so I can swallow and move on. It's crushing.

My hand

The day I got robbed I sat down on the floor. Then I clenched my fist and hit the floor with the side of my hand. I think I may have really hurt myself. My bruise really hasn't gone away and it still hurts. Hurts more than a week old bruise. The swelling has gone down. Sometimes typing really hurts. Maybe I fractured something. Oh, well. Just chalk it up to more shit on my plate. My hand still works.

Thank you

Thank you, Universe. You cut me a little tiny break today. I was able to give Grubb the shot (with Kyle's help). There was no excitement, no stress, no anal expression. That in the everyday is pretty impressive, frankly. All Grubb needed was some stomach scratching to distract him and bam. He didn't even know it. And when it was all over it felt like someone had just lifted a brick house off the top of me.

Now I wish I could have that exact same sense of relief with the rest of my life.

Work Porn

Looking at a video camera at work I saw some ugly people porn. I mean really ugly. I thought the woman was a pudgy man until I saw her vagina. I saw them snort some really bad brown cocaine. It was amusing.

I'm so exhausted.

So... Life really sucks. . . .

My dog is totally broken. The vet can't figure out something to make him stop hurting. Tomorrow I go to pick up shots to give him myself. The vet said I could practice with saline on his french bulldogs. That might be the highlight of my day. Giving a stranger's dog a shot.

My house got totally broken into. They stole my camera. They stole my computer. They upset my dog. The whole thing just makes me sick. They didn't touch anything else in the house. Just my stuff.

To top it off, the landlord for this house is a total fucktard so now I have to move. The principle of the thing is that I won't give him my money. He is an unthinking, social defective. I think he has a girlfriend/wife, who p.s., was waiting in the car while he boarded up the door the night of the break in. That just proves to me that any man can get a woman. I mean, any bumbling, fucking ass clown.

After the break in, the asshat landlord thought it was a good idea to park at the back of the house and come walking up to the front door. He was dirty looking and his arm was bandaged. Long story short he looked like a hobo. He walks up and says, "Hey, how's it going". I have never met this man before in my life. As far as I know a stranger just walked up to my house. So I say hi in the bitchiest voice I can muster. He then asks me if I am Lauren. My words said yeah, my voice said fuck you who wants to know. He then introduces himself. He didn't even say he was sorry to hear about what happened. I swear if I live a thousand years I will never meet a more socially retarded shit stain. The worst part is there is more. I just don't even feel like writing about it.

I have to wake up really early in the morning. I'm not looking forward to it, because I'm not really that tired.

I'm monumentally depressed. But I think I got all my tears out yesterday. Sometimes that really sucks because once my body feels like it has cried enough I won't be able to cry again. It just relieves so much. Sometimes I need it to happen again.

Utterly Heartbroken

Well, here comes a stress diet. My favorite. I'm hungry. Then I eat and what to vomit. Maybe I should take a couple of Grubb's pain pills. They don't work for him. Or maybe they do. I can't tell. When he takes one he gets incredibly anxious. Last night he paced for hours and hours and panted. When I finally got him to sleep he woke up an hour later to do some more panting. That happened a few more times before he slept the rest of the morning.

I did it

I have officially kicked Grubb off the bed. I don't want to. It hurts me. But he can't keep pissing and vomiting on the bed. I raised the bed so he can't get on it. After spending almost the entire night awake, vomit all over the place, one of those places was almost my face. I got up at 6. Went to the laundromat and when I got back home I took the cinderblocks from outside and raised the bed again. I made Grubb a little bed in the corner that he apparently hates, or resents too soon to tell. Either way, he won't lay in it. I tried to make it cozy and put all his things around it. No go. Hopefully tonight he changes his mind. I really wish this would get better. I'm not asking for a miracle. I'm just asking for a little relief. I'll take not pissing and vomiting. Please.

Not sure I can handle this.

Ugh

I'm a giant asshole. I can't even stand myself right now. I'm so lucky people love me.