Recently

I have acquired some new friends. I said I was going to do that, remember. I didn't expect them to be 30 years my senior, but I didn't expect a lot of things from my life that I got. These women do something to my heart that is pretty similar to travel for me. They show me a new world. A world of wisdom, and acceptance, and grace, and maybe they aren't happy all the time with everything in their lives, but they are dealing with it beautifully. In the end, that is all I can hope for. I now have them looking for apartments for me in their neighborhood. What love they have, and willingly give it to me: a perfect stranger, and they slather on compliments everywhere they go. It's weird, but I have a connection with them, and I relate to them. Which is pretty scary. If I already feel 65 what will I feel like when I'm actually 65?

I'm trying

I swear. I'm trying to not be so down. I have so many things to be thankful for. I just can't shake this hideous feeling. I'm thankful for my friends. I don't know what I would do without them. I'm thankful for Sam Cooke. His voice touches me in very appropriate places. I'm really thankful for all the things I have, for everything I ever had, for all the things I have seen and done. I'm thankful I'm clever. Lately, I have been closing my eyes and thinking of times I have made people laugh. It reminds me that I'm pretty cool and this pain won't last forever. But god damn it hurts.

Tidbits

• I like to see birds carrying things in there beaks.
• I went to the Antique Mall today. Thank you, but I prefer to get my junk at Savers where it is resonably priced.
• I love getting book recommendations from strangers. Tai-Pan was today's suggestion from the guy printing some pictures for me at the Walgreens. It's about Hong Kong. Historical Fiction.
• I accomplished some things today.
• I don't want to go to work tomorrow.
• Tonight, I have a date with Sluggs, we are going to watch Life. Really excited. My life has been massively devoid of David Attenborough and bulldogs.
• I love the way un-flexed muscle feels under skin. Especially when it is my muscle that hasn't been in that particular place for years. Now, if only my hamstrings would get with the program.

Never a dull moment! Ha!

Get it. I got a fish hook stuck in my hand yesterday at work. It wasn't dull. It was very fucking sharp and it hurt. Especially, because I didn't feel it go in and I tried to move my hand and when I couldn't move it freely I pulled harder. I became morally opposed to fishing in that three seconds when I was thinking fuck fuck fuck how will i get this out of my hand. I can't imagine what it feels like in your mouth. Poor things. A requirement for working in a pawn shop should be a tetanus shot (tet-anus, gross). Other than that, my new job is intensely dull. Making it through a day is like walking though jello.

Welcome back to "More Irrational Thoughts" with Lauren

Today, our topics will be having second thoughts on renting an upstairs apartment because Grubb can't get up the stairs. Hang around after the break for not being able to put Grubb's food and water bowl away. Later, special guest star, Work. Is it bad juju to work in a pawn shop? And the follow up question, is my bad juju rubbing off on other people? Stick around.

Today, was a fucking doozy.

Where should I start.

Ugh, still don't have a schedule. I'll be moving to a store way south that does almost nothing all day long. Which, can't complain about. It sucks that I will have to drive about 30 miles one way to work everyday. And be there at EIGHT in the morning. I had a nice schedule. I won't work on Sundays that is bonus. And in the end, I'm glad I'm not moving to the store they told me they would put me at because me and some of my co-workers are pretty sure that store is going to be robbed. Consider this, someone was mugged at gun point in the parking lot there just today. And if I ever find a god damned placed to live, it will be really close to my house. Still doesn't excuse the fact that the way the manager handled this was completely unprofessional, inconsiderate, and disgusting.

Next, I will miss my old store. Why, you ask? I mean the only reason I wanted to work at a pawn shop was for the stories. If they move me to a store that writes four loans a day where the hell are the stories going to come from.

I looked in a woman's purse she was trying to pawn, standard procedure to see if it is real, and there were still things in it, not nearly as bad as the legend hypodermic, but I found them to be incredibly amusing. Bubble Bubble Bubble gum the really pink stuff with the yellow and blue wrapper, some condoms, and a credit card.

Then, as I was just getting back from lunch a co-worker comes out of the building and tells me to look over there. In the parking lot, two cars away is a woman digging in the trunk of her car. By god, she had no pants on. Judging from the amount of ass crack I could see she didn't have any panties on either. I could tell she was high on crack from that far away and every hit she took off the crack pipe was writ large in the lines on her face. She was trying to pull a wheel chair out of the trunk of her car to pawn. Then I went inside where we proceeded to laugh about the sign we need that says, "No Pants= No Loan". Eventually, one of my co-workers went outside and told her we weren't going to take her collateral. Man, oh man. I don't get paid enough to deal with women with no pants on. I need hazard pay for that shit.

I need a new job, a new car, a new dog, a new place to live. It appears I just need a new life.

So get this,

I get to work today and there is a schedule for next week. Guess who isn't on it. Guess who wasn't told where she is going or what her schedule is next week. Guess who actively sought it out and still got nothing. Guess who has the worst manager on earth.

The Haunting.

Maybe it is just me, but I feel like I do the same things over and over. I'm pretty sure I have forgotten about them in between and then it is like deja-vu or a constant loop and disturbing.

For instance, I was thinking about the other worst summer of my life. Which, in comparison, was a summer breeze. Kyle went to Spain I was super lonely, I really didn't have any friends to speak of at the time, none in Austin. I was living with Kyle's friend who was going though a divorce. He really brought the party up as you can imagine. I got three flat tires that summer. Every time I turned around I had a flat tire. I had to change a flat at three in the morning. Needless to say I cried the entire time. I was of course keeping Kyle's dog while he was in Spain. That was the first summer Sluggs had to go to the emergency room because his head swelled up like a balloon from ant bites. He had hives all over his body, hard welts the size of quarters. I was afraid his throat was going to swell shut. Under his little roll on the top of his nose it was pure puss from ant bites. The second time it happened that summer I was getting used to it by then. Fuck, what's another two hundred dollars at the emergency room. Anyways, shitty story short, I watched the L Word for the first time that summer. Here I am watching it again. Weird. Why do shitty summers and the L Word find themselves together again in my life.

Another haunting, once I bought a Joni Mitchell album, Blue. I never really listened to it for some reason. I was probably 18. As I'm re-watching the L Word I hear this song that I really like. Low and behold it is Joni Mitchell. The song I like is on the album Blue. Weird, so I start listening to the whole album. Turns out I really like some other songs, one especially. Remember the Christmas music at work? They play this Joni Mitchell song that I really like. It talks about Christmas but, "I wish I had a river I could skate away on" isn't really in the Christmas spirit.

Same shit, different summer. That is all.

A little cherry on top ....

So, my area manager decided to tell everyone else that I'm not going to the jewelry store like she first told me, and not tell me. So I get to hear it from rumors today. That means that not a single thing she told me is true. I mean she can't even keep an appointment. That makes her a terrible human being, a liar and a coward in my eyes and the first second I get a chance, I'm gonna tell her that to her face. It is clear to me that she gives promotions based on cup size, not merit. I will be contacting hr about that, and every other lie she has told me. I don't have enough time or energy to talk about the way she treats the other employees.

I mean, really. Really?

I finally find a place I want to live. Well, too bad, because that living space was rented the day before I even looked at. Excellent.

I want to send my friend a fucking birthday present. I track the damn package on line and it says address undeliverable, sort complete. I try to call a human and all I get is a robot. Get this she tells me that there is no information on that tracking number I should get the information through my local post office, if I am done hang up. Well, I can't call my local post office because they don't give that information out, they give the number I just called. I'm having it sent to someone else house so I don't know what post office to go to. Bullshit, United States Postal Service, Bullshit.

Thirdly, it has been over a month of trying to get BBVA Compass to fix my accounts. It isn't that hard. All I need them to do is close accounts that are frozen and take off a 20 charge for having insufficient funds on the accounts that are empty and frozen that no one will close. Actually it has been TWO months since the accounts have been frozen and should have been closed, but I have only been hassling them about it for one. You think they could take care of that in a month. Not only can they not take care of that after I would say about 5 visits, one random survey that was terrible, by the way and still nothing, they charged me and EXTRA 20 dollars. Lovely. I am also a "preferred" customer. I can't imagine how they treat the regular customers.

How about every little fucking thing be a mild irritation? Perfect. That feels nice.

Constant as the northern star. Constantly in the darkness.

Notes from my day:

Took a clerical test for a job I applied for. Went well, I guess. Got done an hour before I had to go to work and decided to go to Quack's. Thought my day would go really good since they had blueberry pie. Had a piece for breakfast at 10 am. There was a hair in it. Story of my life, little bit good, little bit bad. Looked up from my hair pie to see the lead singer of Casey's band hitting on the girl who was working the cash register. I wanted to hit on her too. She was cute in that predictable, I have black hair with straight bangs and tattoos and a septum piercing way. I guess a certain amount of us have to go through that phase.

Customer notes:

• Hispanic male: the only i.d. he has is a San Antonio State Hosptial i.d. He barely speaks English and he has a trucker hat on that says, "I'm a Miranda." I could not look at him. I would start to laugh. So I just had to walk away.
• Black male: wearing what looked like a hand painted t-shirt of lilly pads, which could only have been done by someone who was less than 10 years old. Granted the shirt was pretty long, but he didn't have any pants on. In there stead he was wearing a scarf tied around his waist. Plus he had gloves on like he was working out in that get-up. He was also drinking a gatorade. I should have gotten that guys autograph. That was a milestone, I had never met a walking joke before.
• First customer of the day today: Black female, standing there as I clocked in. I assumed for a second that someone had helped her. Not the case. She has a cotton dress on with daisies on it. Her hair looks like something that came out of a horror movie. It is blond in some places, and looks like she slept in it. Her eyes are half open. She is about three paces behind when I talk to her and she has a vacuum, and 10 inch analog television and a big ass dvd player. I tell her we can't take the vacuum but I can give her 5 for the television and 5 for the dvd player. She tells me that won't help her she need more than 10 dollars, but she doesn't want to move "this shit" because she has no place to put it. I stand there silently. What else do you say to that. Then she says, "You can have it" ! and walks out! Hello. Idiot. At least take the TEN free dollars.

I wish I could enjoy my work more. I enjoy it so much in hindsight.

Right on Schedule

Had a major break down today. I saw the last little bit of what I had a hold of slipping away. I'm starting to see a pattern. One break down a week. Excellent. I'll try to put them on my calendar because it is really inconvenient to do this on the days I work. Seeing as, after this one, I was so exhausted I cried myself to sleep and didn't wake up for two hours. In a week moment of overbearing rage I threw my phone against the wall. It happened kind of like Monday when I was driving to work. I thought to myself that I'm going to scream at the top of my lungs. Then I sit quietly thinking how foolish and ridiculous it is, that I can get along just fine without screaming. Then all of a sudden I'm screaming. Once I did it, I did it more. I spent the whole 20 minutes catching my breath and then screaming again. Just as I thought, it didn't do anything for me, but make my throat sore and that is probably where my headache came from. It feels like I have lost all control. I was pissed and wanted to throw my phone, then all of a sudden it came shooting out of my hand while I wasn't thinking about it. I was about four hours late to work.

This guy who really wants to get into my pants came into work today and told me about a welding job where I can become a pre-apprentice that will start Aug. 1st. 1000 a week. But I would work 7 - 12's. That means 12 hours a day, seven days a week. Can I do it? Is this a sign? P.S. He has a TWENTY TWO year old son. He asked me to dinner. Or a movie or whatever I wanted to do. A concert. Dude, I get it. I told him I would think about it. I don't see that happening.

So me and Joni Mitchell are trying to ride this one out.

You've got to keep thinking

You can make it through these waves

Acid, booze, and ass

Needles, guns, and grass

Lots of laughs, lots of laughs.

She starts the song with "songs are like tattoos", I haven't really figured out what she is talking about because a song has never made me bleed and tattoo has never made me cry.

I took a wrong turn and got stuck in my head.

I sat in the shower for about 45 minutes with my head in my hands thinking about what the hell I'm going to do with my life. What if my life just doesn't get any better than this? What if I just keep getting pummeled like this forever. How many times can I sit with my head in my hands thinking about how much I hate where I am. Something has to change, but what. I get some other shitty job. Then what. I have this terrible feeling that things are going to change for me, but not for the better. Unfortunately, everyday I'm fully expecting something terrible to happen. When I get a phone call from a number I don't recognize, I know before I answer that on the other end is bad news. The terrible thing is feeling this way. I need not look any further.

My fantasy-

Laying on the beach in South Africa, and a big, giant German soccer player comes up to me and want to celebrate his victory. We all know it's going to happen. Or a big, giant Dutch loser, I'll console the shit out of him. I'm hoping here that the Germans and the Dutch go head to head in the battle royale of tall blonds. There might still be time for me to fly to South Africa. In case you haven't watched any world cup games they do slow motion replays and in these slow motion replays are close ups of these soccer players legs. It will make you sweat. Guaranteed.

What a headache

I had a migraine last night. This was followed by a full eight hours at work with a headache. By 8 I thought I was going to vomit. So I went straight home, got undressed and crawled in bed. But first a took a terribly watery stool. While Robert Sapolsky is teaching me the physiology of why my body thinks that watery stool is the best solution for stress (long, complicated story short- the body has to pump all sorts of water into your guts to get the nutrients out of your food. Then, it takes all sorts of energy to get that water back, meanwhile stress comes along and good ol' body aborts mission to conserve energy and bam, watery stool.) doesn't make it feel any better, especially with the headache of the century. I didn't look at the clock, but I would say I was asleep at 9 pm last night and I didn't wake up until 7:30am. Not once. It was so nice.

As disgusting as it is

I have a schedule. A schedule that I don't break. I wake up at 8 am every morning. Even on my day off. I exercise for an hour. I'm really glad I started the routine quickly while I was still in shock, because if I were trying to start now I don't think I could have done it. Without this routine I think I would just stay in bed and cry for days and days.

On a happier note, I really feel like I'm getting stronger. That is incentive to keep going. I'm really happy with my upper body. I wish my lower body would just get with the program. My god, I do way more lower body exercises and what the fuck. I can see little changes, sure. The problem is I have way more fat down there than on my upper body. I am hoping I will gain some weight eventually too. I holding out a lot of hope for my ass.

My personal hell

I walk into work and there is a CHRISTMAS TREE. Ok. Weird. I clock in and I hear it. The god awful noise. My manager is right there and I grab his arm and say, "Is this real? Is this for real?" He looks me dead in the eyes and says, "Yes." CHRISTMAS MUSIC! For the entire month of July we have to listen to Christmas music. Because we are celebrating Christmas in July. All layaways are 5 months long, so hop on by the pawn shop and buy something you can't afford. The thing about listening to Christmas music for EIGHT agonizing hours a day is that there aren't that many Christmas songs. So I hear Rudolph about three times a day, sung by different people.

Conversation between me and a huge black man-

HBM- What are y'all listening to?

Me- My nightmare.

Co-Worker- Christmas in July.

HBM- Yeah, I can see how that could be nightmare-ish.

Today, in the shower after work I almost started singing Christmas music.

As if my grasp on sanity wasn't tenuous enough.

Smashed

I was really happy June was over. I had a lot of hope for July. Then today happened. I had a huge fucking break down.

I called the friend of a friend who is a realtor and was supposed to show me duplexes today. It just happened out of the blue that her dog died and when I called she just got home from the vet. It tore my life apart. My world came skidding to a halt. I got off the phone with her and bawled. My face was in my pillow, drool and snot all over my pillow. I had to come up for air. Sobbing.

I then proceeded to cry for the next two hours. A good thirty minutes of those two hours I was at the bank. People just talked to me like I wasn't crying and nothing was wrong. The bank guy came bopping up to me, asking me how I was doing. This was after I completely ignored him while I was in line to have a check deposited. I had other issues so I had to wait, but for god sakes buddy. I'm not happy. Leave me alone.

Long story short- big dreams of a better month= smashed.

My Vice

In a flurry of diet ideas, I decided to only drink un-sweet tea. I had made it two days. Yesterday, mid way through a terrible day a guy at work went to starbucks and got everybody something. At first I didn't want anything and then I saw that someone was getting a sweet black tea. So I got one of those. God, it was fucking delicious. It is like they put essence of fruit loop in that shit.

So, fuck that. I have one vice. ONE. I don't drink. I don't smoke. I don't over eat. I don't really like sweets. I have one thing, and that is sugar in my tea. I swear I will drink it until I die, or I don't like it anymore, or the world runs out of sugar or tea.

Oh, wait do pickles and mustard count, because I'm NOT giving them up either. Someone will have to pry them out of my cold dead hands.