Work This

I haven't had a day off since my birthday. Which, in case you have forgotten because it was so long ago, was Thursday, last Thursday. That means six days, no day off. I was telling my friend that last night, explaining why I was so tired, and she said, "Well, do you at least get Sunday off?" I do. She says that's good. I'm sure you have heard a similar conversation a million times. Friends try to look on the bright side. Then I got to thinking about it. NO. TWO. DAYS. OFF. IN. A. WEEK. Is nothing fucking special. ESPECIALLY since one of them is fucking holiday.

From the minute I got to work it was like a horror movie. One thing after another and another. Everybody and their fucking grandma wanted to tell me their life story. Not interesting stories either. "I don't give a shit about your grand kids lady, I'm just trying to survive another day, can't we do this transaction in silence...." Those words formed on my lips.

To top it off I believe I have exceeded my limit for bullshit this week. I haven't the patience or the strength or the will power to even listen to it anymore. So, I'm going to go to bed. Hopefully, between a few hours of shitty sleep, and a day off I can find some of that somewhere in this little body of mine. I just need to muster up enough for a few more days. I get the fourth of July off after all.

Super Diet

Begins NOW.

I made myself some really good chicken breast tonight with a side of sauteed vegetable (squash, zucchini, onions, and mushrooms). I made more so I can take that to work tomorrow for lunch. I had some yogurt for dessert. I must stop eating shitty food. I am going high protein so I can get more muscle. I want my butt to be bigger and my thighs to be really toned.

I don't have a goal weight. Though, I do have an inspiration picture. Not appropriate for work.

I, instead, have goal activities.

I will enroll in some sort of boxing/kick boxing class. I have a lot of aggression to release. Anybody know anyplace where you can do that sort of thing without joining a gym?

I really want to row one of those boats where you go backwards. I don't really know what you call it. Rowing I guess. But that is going to have to wait until it isn't a hundred and twenty degrees outside. The idea of being on the lake in the cold kind of excites me, for reasons unknown to me, because I hate the cold.

I have been doing these exercises every other day for a week now. So far the only difference is that I'm not as sore after doing them as I was when I first started. Me and this other video are going to get acquainted on Wednesday. And just in case, you should watch this video cause this guy is crazy. Just watching the video I think my abs got a little tighter.

It's on. Commence project "Lauren is going to have the best body in a 100 mile radius".

Bedtime Stories

I have been blogging a lot lately. For some reason I think it will help. Why I think it will help to tell you depressing stories from work and how I feel like shit all the time will help I have no idea. Unfortunately, I know for a fact that crying in front of the microwave won't. So here goes.

• Not a big fan of talking these days.
• It seems that the highlight of my day is Dove Grapefruit and Lemongrass body wash.
• For my birthday I bought myself a moleskin. With only two days worth of notes from work, so far I have some real gems written down.
• For instance, this is a direct quote from a conversation I heard, "He need to stay still. That is how Ontay* got shot on the wrong side of some trick dice". *I took some liberties with the spelling of this name and just went phonetically.
• One day a man came into the pawn shop and needed a loan for medicine. Then he showed me his port underneath his shirt just so that I knew he was telling the truth. Turns out he didn't have a valid i.d. so I couldn't give him 20 bucks for his 5 disc dvd player anyway.
• This afternoon a man pawned his generator so he could get money for his granddaughters birthday cake.
• Today two costumers were standing right next to each other. They didn't have anything to do with one another. They just happened to be in very close proximity so I got to see them both, in all their glory, at the same exact time. On the left we have bad trannie. Six foot. Black. I can see his chest hair stubble due to his very low cut flowery dress. Giant fake eyelashes. Didn't bother to put his falsies in. Bad weave. Deep voice. And if you look to the left, we have a man who asked me to see a pool cue we had behind the counter. While he was looking at said pool cue that I handed him I noticed his finger. The tip of it was gone. It was fresh. So fresh that the single band aid he had placed over his nub, where his fingertip once was, was starting to get to the point where you can see the blood through the other side.
• I should get hazard pay.

Nope. Didn't help.

Pros and Cons of having a puppy

Pro: Companionship

Con: Expensive to buy

Con: Expensive to fix

Con: Pet Deposit

Con: the pooping and the pissing

Con: the chewing

Pro: I'm really lonely for a dog.

Con: The puppies I am going to visit on Thursday won't be ready for another 10 weeks. Because they were born on the 23rd.

Con: Time consuming

I turned 27 at midnight on a little stretch of I-35 that runs through Austin, Texas, driving with the windows down and listening to Ray LaMontagne at an eardrum busting volume. And, yes, I am sad, but not altogether unhopeful. The only good thing about being down so low is that I think I found hope down here. On the way home I prayed to whoever is up there that all of 27 is better than the last half of 26.

No matter what, I'm immensely lucky to have such wonderful people in my life who care about me. Words can't express how much I love all of them and how important they are to me.

On things that I can't shake:

Hunger and

Anger. They kind of look alike. They are probably related.

But when I feel my angriest I don't feel my hungriest. This morning in the shower I had an anger attack (if there is such a thing). I was so angry I was breathing heavy and all hot. If you would have asked me right then what I was so angry about I couldn't have told you, I sure as hell can't tell you now. Or if I know what I'm angry about, I know that is is so stupid that I shouldn't tell people.

Today along with my big fat helping of anger I had half a box of macaroni and cheese, about 7 slices of pizza at a buffet along with a plate full of pepperoncinis , half a honey bun, a fake chicken sandwich and now I'm prowling for my next meal and I ate about 15 minutes ago. That may not sound like much, but considering I normally eat about 1/4 of that- it's huge.

P.S.

It's a quarter after I hate that song and I need to not hear it anymore.

If you don't know what I'm talking about consider yourself privileged. I wish that song was illegal. Considering the way it makes me feel when I hear it, it is an assault on my person. It is physical and mental punishment. I hear it at least three times a day at work.

A note about Lady Gaga-

If the entire world told me my shit didn't stink, I would probably make them smell it all the time too.

Heartbreak and Depression

The most important thing in my life for nine years in gone. I don't think I'm coping very well.

I'm so angry. I cry at least two times a day.

I don't want to be alone, but I really don't want to be around people. It takes every once of will power I have ever had to not tell people to fuck off and get out at the littlest infraction.

I hate this. I just want my life back.

I have this picture as my desktop. Sometimes I look at myself and wonder who that is, and hope I can get that person back real soon.

I think I found something that would be suitable for Grubb's ashes. A Bulldog Gin bottle. It's kind of perfect.

Thank you, exercise, for making it easy for me to wake up at 8 o'clock every morning. Only, could you not make me feel like I'm going to barf? Thanks.

It has taken quite a while, but I am back in an exercise routine. Mostly because of necessity. Jumping rope has made it so much easier to ride my bike. I can jump rope for about 2 minutes at a time, so I just keep doing it like three times a day. It has given me so much energy. I almost feel human again. Waking up doesn't feel like somebody has put ten pound weights in the bags under my eyes while I was sleeping.

So apparently,

I thought that white men didn't like my hair. It seems only black men and all women like it. By the way I got hit on by a young black guy yesterday who basically told me I should have a fuck buddy. Uncomfortable. Hello I'm at work. I'm not thinking about fucking some broke ass chump. Sorry. Anyways, I went and ate at Hat Creek today on Burnet. (Really good by the way. It tasted homemade.) Every white guy who worked there was staring. One guy came close to my table with rag in hand, tripped over a table, didn't do any cleaning, then asked if I had everything I needed. There were plenty of tables around me that were occupied. He didn't ask any of them. Men are so weird. Their nervousness and awkward fumbling is kind of cute.

I got Grubb's ashes back today.

My nemesis

There is a guy at my work that is a total piece of shit. AND for some reason he thinks he can treat other people like they, too, are pieces of shit. He has crossed me once before, he crossed me today and we are through. I am done being treated like that. I was actually thinking about things I could possibly get away with and not get fired. I know I couldn't slap him, but I want to slap the shit out of his skinny ass. Could I possibly spit on him? Either way, when I rain down on him the furry that his built up from my shitty life he will cry. I am talking low blows. AND it will feel good. AND if he does cry that will only illicit more furry and I will kick him while he is down, and make fun of him for crying. Then I will stand over the corpse of his dignity and laugh.

I have to admit

the thought of two puppies is very appealing. Bela and Vincent, as in Bela Lugosi and Vincent Price. Two little tiny warm bodies in bed with me at night. Twice the puppy breath.

Then I think about twice the piss and shit. Twice the chewed up things. Twice the heartbreak when they would both die at about the same time.

Fantasy over.

Conversations in misery

First one with my mom-

Tammy: Maybe you should get a puppy. (Indecipherable....) Help.

Lauren: Help with what?

Tammy: Getting over your sorrow over Grubb.

Lauren: What am I gonna do with a puppy while I'm at work for 8 hours?

Tammy: Well... get two.

I would name them sassafras and moonshine, or mayonnaise and mustard, or some other great pair. But I don't need two puppies right now. Though I would love it.

Next one with my friend at work:

Veronica: You look like a parakeet today, Lauren.

Lauren: Yeah I didn't really feel like doing anything with my hair.

10 minutes later after a look in the mirror...

Lauren: Yeah, I do look like a parakeet today.

Veronica: Laughter.

Grubb is dead

At night, in the dark, in the silence, the silence that he used to occupy, the phrase plays over and over. Sometimes I hear it thirty times before I can get it to stop. I don't want this to be happening.

Mornings are harder. It is like my body wants to hurt me. It is almost like I have to remember all over again every morning. The silence is too hard to take. Sometimes I have a movie playing while I play a video game. By sometimes I mean all the time. It is the only way I can deal with the quiet. Sometimes I do let it be silent. I can only take so much before I start a million things playing so I can rest my heart.

I'm tired, exhausted would be more accurate, all the time.

I have one emergency sleeping pill sitting in my bathroom. Last night was pretty bad, but I was awake at 4:50. I wouldn't have been able to wake up for work if I took a pill then. Instead I laid in the dark and the silence.

More irrational thoughts...

In my head: I will never get over this. I will become bitter and sad (even more so). All my friends have already written me off. MP has cut his loses. All these things keep snowballing and I'm wrinkled, mean, and lonely.

In reality: I'm really glad none of that has happened yet, but fear it, terribly.

When you're alone

I have had nightmares the past two nights. Really. Really. Bad. Nightmares. Murderous, unnerving things that wake me up for good. There is no closing my eyes afterwards, there is no being in silence cause it plays on repeat until I manage to wake up and play music or look at the internet. I was turned weird on my bed this morning so that when I woke up I was looking at the wall that is normally behind my head. I was uncomfortable and confused. I couldn't figure out where I was exactly. It always helped to touch Grubb, so I knew I wasn't asleep anymore, that nothing was going to hurt me. But I'm all alone.

I only thought I was lonely before.

The day life took a shit in my mouth,

Tuesday night at about midnight Grubb had his first seizure. I knew from when we took Sluggs to the vet that old dogs who have never had a seizure it can only mean that they have a brain tumor. It was violent. While I was holding him he tore my shorts. He vomited all over. He shit himself. He didn't have the strength to open his mouth and for a minute I thought he would choke on his own vomit and I had no idea how to fix it. After about 10 minutes he came out of it and he paced and panted. Finally he went to sleep. I woke up at 7 in the morning to Grubb having another seizure. That one didn't last as long. He didn't have anything to vomit or shit, though he tried.

At 9am I called the vet. My suspicions confirmed, it was only going to get worse. Worst case scenario his seizures start to snowball and they don't stop. I didn't want that. I didn't want Grubb to have to have another seizure. I called Kyle. He came over and stayed with him while I went to the grocery store to get him a steak. I cut the steak up into pieces and fed him while we all laid on the bed. The three of us spent a couple hours talking and crying. I laid on Grubb and told him how much I love him. Kyle thought of really great Grubb stories that I hadn't thought about in years. I love thinking about when Grubb was young.

The first day I met Grubb it was love at first sight. He didn't look like his brothers or sisters. He wasn't wrinkly at all or lethargic. He was curious, and wandered around the house to look at things. His little white face was the cutest thing I had ever seen in my life. He had absolutely no interest in either of us that day, he was more interested in looking at his reflection in a brass planter in the kitchen. He was born in a little house by the lake. I drove while Kyle held him in a baby blanket on our way home. The memory of that drive is so clear. I remembered how badly I wanted to touch him and be the one holding him. It was a long drive. Grubb's last car ride was the same. I drove while Kyle held him. Every chance I got I looked over to touch him. Both times worrying if he was alright, is he nervous, will he hate me.

In the vets office they had a blanket on the table with a box of kleenex. Kyle and I waited. The vet came in and gave Grubb a sedative to relax him and left us alone while it took effect. He was nervous, but he was so sick all he could do about it was shake. I held him and talked to him. The sedative started to kick in and he laid down on the table in my arms. He was still breathing heavy. Very shortly the vet came back in with the needle. It was filled with something that was bright pink. Something about that color reminded me of Sonic the Hedgehog. In one of the games there was pink ooze that when you touched it made you shit all your coins. I hated the look of it. It didn't look real. It was like all of a sudden we were in a sci-fi movie. It made my stomach hurt. The vet tech that taught me how to give Grubb his shots came in and she stood beside me. She told me at an earlier visit that she remembered Grubb when he was a puppy. I was glad it wasn't strangers. They shaved Grubb's front leg. Grubb didn't move, just a steady loud breathing was all he could manage. The tech held his leg to make his vein bulge. The first time the needle went in he jerked his head a little. The vet stopped. They tried again that time with no reaction. He pulled the plunger back and Grubb's blood mixed with the pink ooze. A syringe full of death. I watched as the vet pushed the plunger in. Grubb quit moving immediately. The syringe was still full and I had to look away. I closed my eyes and laid my head on Grubb. The vet checked his hear beat. He was still alive, but his heartbeat was weak. I whispered secrets to him in his ear. The vet checked again and he was gone.

Grubb was never a very affectionate dog, but occasionally in his life he let me hold him while he slept. These occasions were few and far between so when it happened I cherished it. His lifeless body felt just like he was sleeping. He felt so good in my arms. I didn't want to let him go. His tongue was hanging out and it was a peculiar shade of purple. His eyes were barely open. But his body still felt like Grubb. I didn't want to let him go. I petted him for a while. I tried to wipe away all the tears and snot I had left on him. I cleaned his face a little. Little by little I got a little further away. I started having irrational thoughts. Grubb wouldn't want to be left alone. He hated the vets office. He wouldn't want to be in there without me. I had to force myself to leave. I had to force myself to believe that Grubb wasn't in there anymore.

It was a long, quiet ride home.

Kyle and I got back to the house and laid down on the bed and held each other and cried. I needed the human contact more than air.

My every thought is consumed by Grubb. When somebody invites me to do something I automatically worry if I will be away from the house too long. Who will take Grubb out, who will give him his pain pills. When I come home he is the first thing I think about when I put my key in the door. I start to have more irrational thoughts. Then I tell myself that it is completely irrational. I can't help it, I think it anyway.

today i lost 42 pounds. right where my heart was.

Birthday List:

• Robert Sapolsky books
• new sheets
• camera
• sex
• MP to be home
• to know if Grubb is hurting
• my happiness back
• (hopefully I get a package deal that comes with sanity too)
• I would like a living wage
• to find an awesome place to live at a price I can afford
• love, lots of it
• relaxation
• the tropics, yes the entire tropical region
• a hammock for naps in said tropical region
• money, tons of it

Oh, yeah I forgot something ....

I'm pretty sure I forget more interesting things than YOU have actually lived through.

Here are two little gems I had forgotten about:

A guy came in to pawn his laptop. We always have to have the password. He tells me that it is crazy. I tell him he can take it off or he can change it, after the second time he said it was crazy. He says it's ok. I get to the point in the computer where I can put in the password and he tells me, "ilovepussy". I smiled. You know I have some will power stored somewhere and sometimes it makes an appearance when need be. You know what I wanted to say. "Me too."

Next.

Last week an old black man was hitting on me. I'm pretty sure he was saying some pretty nasty things. But he sounded like the cat from King of the Hill so I had to keep asking him what he was saying. When I was pretty sure it was inappropriate I just let it go. I can't remember any of what he said. Something about riding something, and how I could help him. Yikes. I was also on the other side of the counter trying to fix dvd's and happen to be bent down. It was super uncomfortable. What could I do I just tried to ignore it. His 20 something year old granddaughter told him to stop talking all that stuff and go get the mower they were trying to pawn.

Oh, did I mention

Last night at the party, also known as the loneliest day of my life, I almost cried in front of everyone.

Let's talk about a surprise visit from an out of town friend. Genuine surprise and happiness to see a person you don't get to see all the time, who drove all that way special for you. Reunion.

That was exactly what I needed. CRUSHING. My heart was an empty coke can. I had to remove myself from the situation very quickly. Through incredible feats of will, I managed to not let a single tear fall.

Why hello there ..

Loneliest day of my life.

Mid-day I went to Central Market. The yuppies were swarming and the sight of all those happy. fucking. families. with their blond children and the perky mom tits. You could smell the living wage on them. Everyone was clean and well dressed. I thought I was going to vomit. Normal people disgust me. Note to self: Never go back there.

Then to a party where there was more than one couple who was in the early stages of I can't keep my hands off you. Well, fuck you too. Why don't you rub my nose in it. I haven't been touched by the person who makes me feel good in months. Go ahead, touch each other in front of me. Your happiness is like sandpaper on my skin. Please, feel good. I don't mind. Misery is my best friend anyway.

I think I can. I think I can. I think I can.

I can do this. I might be the angriest person on the face of the earth. However, I will survive.

I did have a really good time at the party. I talked to a gay boy with a library science degree from UT. The gays, they search each other out. MSIS's too. I swear, now that I'm not in the program they come out of the wood work. It made me feel good about school again. The only person I have talked to that said it sucks. Finally.

On an angry note. Men staring at me was really pissing me off today. I'm about to fucking cut you pissed. In the parking lot of central market the words, "What are you fucking looking at you YUPPY PRICK." Where on my lips. What was I thinking. You should have smiled you stupid bitch. Rich guys, hello. Really, really adorable guy at party quickly looking away every time I glanced in his direction. Yeah, you have a girlfriend, so you know what- Fuck off and die. I'm sorry I'm enraged by the only person I have found remotely attractive in months. Why don't you secretly stare at me when all I want you to do it talk to me. You won't because you have a girlfriend who you are probably really nice to. I know because you clearly are purposefully avoiding even eye contact with me. U-G-H.

This sucks.

The end.

Good night.

The color of my dreams

I wish someone could afford me already. Working is such a drag. I want to learn how to weld. I want a marine science degree. There is a ring at work, oh, this fucking thing is amazing. The smallest stone is like a carat and a half. It is set in 95% platinum. Yes, m'am. It looks amazing on my hand. This thing was made for me. It is only a little over 3 grand. Oh, if somebody would buy me a new car. That would be awesome. I NEED to be a trophy girlfriend. It is my calling in life. I'm sure of it. I am so good at vacations. Relaxing is my middle name. When will my dreams come true? Sigh.

Today's Customer of the Day:

A young hispanic male walks in covering his hand with his shirt. It is pretty slow so three of us are standing at the counter right next to one another. I'm flanked by two men. As soon as he walks in we get quiet. It's a little suspicious. The pawn shop ain't Chucky Cheese and I was pretty sure he didn't have a birthday surprise under there. When he gets closer to the counter I see that his face is swollen with two black eyes that are so fresh the bruises haven't developed good. This fool has blood splatter all over his sweatpants. His hand was wrapped in his shirt because it was bleeding from the fight he just got into. First thing he says is, "Do y'all take bikes?" My co-worker tells him no, and he turns and leaves. As if the 5 dollars we were going to give him for his bike is the most important thing in his life right now. Fool. You are bleeding. He walks out the door and my coworker says, "As if we are gonna take that bike with AIDS all over it."

A few of my favorites:

Number one favorite everyday thing about working nights: Watching the sunset through the bars on the front door. Beautiful.

On the scale of how much I like something, sunset is only slightly surpassed by- thunder storms and police lights in the parking lot, and only because thunderstorms don't happen everyday. The combo does this great thing where the lights are refracted in all the water droplets on the glass of the front door and on the camera lenses on the surveillance. It's like disco pawn. It was really nice that the nightly pick up of the alcoholic hobo who almost dies nightly on the side of our building coincided with the rain and an empty store. Thanks alcoholic hobo. I wonder if the EMS has a route by now.

Third inappropriate t-shirts- today's little gem: "You know you like it deep.." Funny. Sure the shirt was about house music, but I'll take a laugh where I can get it.

News from the Pawn Shop

I have a new bruise everyday.

I get ribbed by co-workers about how skinny I am. It is like I work in the twilight zone where I'm the one that isn't height-weight proportionate. When I was young kids used to get made fun of for being fat. My, how things have changed.

I hate people. Today a woman finally got around to checking when her loan was due. She was about two weeks late. Then she got all pissed off at me like it was my fault she is an idiot. Then she said that she would never come back to this pawn shop again. It took everything I had not to roll my eyes and tell her to blow me. Because we are fresh out of people who are willing to take a loan and not fulfill their part of the agreement that they signed. We are really gonna miss her shitty business. When she decided she would never come back it was 10 to close and we had a line out the door. I wanted to say "LOOK AROUND LADY! We aren't going to go out of business without you! Your empty threats are wasted on me. PLUS, I don't give a shit!"

I'm pretty sure a girl who told me I was pretty on the dating site came into the shop today. I gotta do more research to be sure.

For the birds,

Fuck off you shit eaters. God damn. Don't you ever sleep? What the fuck are you doing all night and day making that fucking racket? Give it a rest already. That is the reason people don't like you.

For the birds,