Piss n' LA

I'm getting old, guys! (and I don't just say this because my birthday is just one measly month away)

I completed my first work task today.
The job entailed driving down to LA, loading a ton (literally) of diesel additive, and driving back home.
Since it was my first time doing this, Dad accompanied me and showed me the ropes, introduced me to the sales reps and whatnot.
Obviously I was stoked about this... because I love LA and I love anything relating to vehicles-- please note the sarcasm.

My day started at 5:30AM, when we headed out... and within minutes Dad took the wrong entry to the freeway... which was apparently my fault. Fun start to my day.
After that tiny speed bump, Dad and I began to bond-- especially when I started to pick his brain. I'm boggled by his entrepreneurial spirit, seriously. It's something my mind just can't grasp. I definitely don't possess that trait... whatsoever... but shiiiit, do I admire the fuck out of anyone who does.

Whenever we weren't talking, we'd be busy listening to Sirius Radio's channel 82... you know, "RadioClassics." I sat there for FOUR HOURS, listening to classic radio shows that went back to 1930... 19-fucking-30!
While it was initially aggravating, the damn shows grew on me. They even made me get in an existential mood.
Imagine... these voice actors are DEAD now. So sad... they sound so youthful and innocent... and excited to be alive. Now you're dead... and I'm listening to you in 2012. 20-fucking12.
Made the trip to LA very quick.

Then came time to meet Dad's sales rep and pick up the cargo.
Fun shit.
Until I caught a glimpse of the sales rep... the hot, young, and incredibly sweet sales rep.
Diesel? I LOVE IT!
Suddenly, this new work task of mine became enjoyable.

After loading all of the boxes, we headed straight back home.
There were terrible car wrecks in the way, more deep father-daughter conversations, and four more hours of RadioClassics.
There WAS one giant problem: Once in the LA area, I downed two liters of water. An hour into the drive back home, I encountered the uncomfortable urge to piss.
I fought the feeling for three more hours... three excruciating hours which had me borderline-delusional, with visions of Jesus and Saints running wild. Me making promises left and right to dear ol' God.
Please, Christ, don't let my bladder explode! I already feel the toxic bacteria building in my urinary tract. Please forgive me, body! PLEASE STEP ON IT, DAD! OH MY GOD! People seriously take for granted their ability to piss in peace.
 I even began weighing the pros and cons of pissing my pants... "piss your pants, AnoMALIE" almost coming out the winner, had I not been wearing "cold shoes."

The moment the truck came to a stop in my driveway, I swore I was going to suffer that dog-reflex where they just let their piss go before reaching a tree... so I ran.
So. Good. So good.
I'll never get sick of saying this: peeing is such a wonderful release.

Anyway, I've spent the rest of the day trying to recuperate, especially since I've only slept two hours in the last 36 hours.
I can't even walk upright... or straight.

This aging crap sucks dick.

STOP the dreaming

I should try being a little less melodramatic.
I'm just upset because I never once thought I'd be the one who'd end up running shit at Mom and Dad's place.
I'm the one with the biology degree... D has the business degree.

This all came about because Dad felt terrible for me after I lost my job back in November (crazy how time flies). I'm convinced he's reading my diary too... he's unusually concerned with my emotional state. He has been inviting me to go out with him.

Dad: Mija, wanna join me and your mom to go see the houses we bought?
(ah yes, my dad's new endeavor. I'll talk about that eventually)
Me: Why?
Dad: I don't know... to get you out of the house. So you won't be here alone.
Me: No... I'm fine. Thanks.

Dad: I'm going to Sam's Club. Wanna come?
Me: Uh... I'm cool. Thanks.

Dad: I'm going to check out if the mechanic has D's car ready. Wanna come with me?
Me: It's ok, Dad, I think D would be the person more interested in doing that.

Then I remember my stupid outburst from last month.
You're such an idiot, AnoMALIE...
It's already January, I should be off suicide-watch by now. Would I have attempted anything, it would have been around the holidays, like so many people do (I'm not joking here. This past December, two acquaintances did this. It's always so disheartening to hear, even if I didn't really know them).
I'm still bummed and have to fight off the sadness and everything, but I'm actively trying to get better. Seriously. I'm even doing that stupid thing where I'll hangout in the sunlight for a few minutes, getting that fucking vitamin D in and whatnot.

I also know I shouldn't be upset about Mom and Dad's workplace... I mean, it's thanks to that place that we have anything. And it's OUR place. I know far too many people who wish they could own their own business.
No one can scream at me... I have the power to fire people... it's an easy job... I have as much vacation time as I damn well please... and I can take vacation whenever I want. It's good.
I'm just... sad because it's not something I love. Shit, it's not even something I'm remotely interested in.
I get frustrated because of all that fucking time I spent killing myself at school... going all the way back to elementary. All those years giving it my all and staying up late learning bullshit... crying and freaking out... and it all boils down to this.

I kid you not when I say I felt probably the last piece of me die the moment I signed the last sheet of paperwork.
Aqui esta mi alma. I give up.

No more dreaming, AnoMALIE. It's over.
Grow up and give up.

Signed

I signed over my soul today.
My hopes and dreams went down the drain...
I finally agreed to work for my parent. I finally signed the papers... and I'm officially their employee.
I signed the papers yesterday, but I went in to work today to finish up the last of the paperwork.

I came home... cried a little... then went looking for a bra at this blessed event that is the Victoria's Secret semi-annual sale.

Then I went ahead and hit the gym... where I cried a little and disguised it as sweat.

Empty. That's the only word I can think of right now.

o4jnfso04

Today's song of the day was "Total Eclipse of the Heart."
I knew how to pick THAT one out of all the songs these men decide to sing around me.

The work environment isn't getting any better.
I find myself mindlessly staring at the computer and robotically going about the documents.
It's the only way I can work without suffering an anxiety attack. I'm still scared shitless of Ms. Catty though she has been VERY kind to me these last two days, even referring to me by my family's nickname for me (while the nickname itself is pretty popular for various names, I don't adhere to it much... mainly for the same reason. If I turned around each time I heard a name that ended in the sound "Me," I'd go fucking crazy).
I'm apprehensive about her kindness because it's usually when mean people plan their final blow... that short, calm in the eye of the storm... them BAM! Your head gets severed.

AH, GOD! I'm sorry, guys! I wish I could do better, but I'm just so exhausted and sad and... fucked up, I can't continue.
I hope things get better and I have time to clear my head and work on something interesting... or at least funny... but for now, I really need to sleep.

2 Weeks

When people are mean to me, and push me near my breaking point... you know, the point where I give them the Jesus Stare, I've said the only thing I'm thinking is "why?"
It's this question that keeps me from ripping the person's face off, getting shipped to jail, and consequently, getting placed on death row.

When I meet assholes, cruel people, folks that enjoy the pain and suffering of others, I can't halp but wonder what in the fucking world made them that way.
I convince myself there's a reason behind their rotten behavior.
So I forgive... because I too have my own traumas that makes me an asshole sometimes. I usually know I'm being an asshole, but it's beyond my control... shit you acquire during your youth is fucking hard as hell to shake off. SO, I assume I'm not alone in this behavior.

I mention this because today I FINALLY realized why Ms. Catty is such a relentless cunt to me.
And I understand.

When I showed up to work, they gave me the cubicle that belonged to the lady who sat next to Musketeer. The folks in charge assured me this was cool.
Once the lady showed up, she went off and worked in another part of the office without much drama.

Well, I've been working at that same cubicle for a month now.
Today, the lady I unwittingly usurped came to work with a huge smile on her face. She was unusually chirpy because all of the coworkers were curious as to why she looked so happy.
She came clean:
Today's my last day of work!
OnlyMexicanOtherThanMeInThatOffice: YOU'RE JOKING! YOU'RE JOKING!
PleaseBeJoking!PleaseBeJoking!PleaseBeJoking!PleaseBeJoking!PleaseBeJoking! I DON'T want to replace you! I don't want to work here forever!
PoorLadyIUnwittinglyReplaced: Nope. I put in my two weeks notice two weeks ago. Today is my last day working.
OnlyMexicanOtherThanMeInThatOffice: OH MY GOD! NO! I'M GOING TO MISS YOU! WHO ELSE IS GOING TO BRING ME ADOBO?!
(Why the fuck are we Mexicans so fucking loud? She seriously sounds like that ALL THE TIME)
FUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUCKKKKKKKKKKKKKK!

They proceeded to have a conversation about WHY she put her two weeks notice.
I guess they had been treating her like shit for some time... but the straw that broke the camel's back was when they placed me in her cubicle.
OH MY GOD! I'M SO SORRY!!!!
Ms. Catty is PoorLady's bestie.
Since Ms. Catty holds a managerial job, she was aware of the two weeks notice, but no one else in the office did (well, none of us scanners. PoorLady had asked them to please keep it on the downlow).

I felt as if someone had just kneed me in the gut.
I wanted to cry.
I slouched in my seat and... wanted to disappear. The guilt was unbearable.
She was a fucking sweet lady!
God, I'd hate ME too! This explains so much! I get you, Ms. Catty, I get you.

And THAT, ladies and gentlemen, is why I hold off on beating the shit out of people when they're mean to me.
There always has to be something behind people's behavior... unless, you know, they're psychopaths or whatever.

Sing me a song

There's a joke going around the office.

I chill with the plebes... you know, the scanners.
There are three dudes who are... managers? I don't know what their actual titles are, I don't care to ask.
These guys show up in suit and tie... all dapper and shit, right?
Two are married assholes, and one is an adorable young, single dude.

These guys drop by time to time to check up on our progress. They're pretty douchey about it.
The cute guy is douchey in the sarcastic sense. He's borderline-prick... takes a minute to realize he's only joking.
ANYWAY.
This joke began yesterday.
Whenever Cute Douchey Manager and I are in the same room, the other two managers start to sing.
Now, if I were better versed in classic Americana... as in, old school english music, I'd know what song it is.
All I really know is that the song says something like
"I'm tired of being lonely" and something like "I want you to love me" or something like that.
I tend to go deaf from embarrassment, so I don't really catch on.
Anyway, if we are ever in the same room together, these dudes will bust out the song.
EVERYONE is in on it. They giggle.
I sit there, uncomfortable... my face hot as hell.
Is this ethical? WTF?


Apparently the guy has a crush on me, and I'm... too aloof to give a shit.
More like too AWKWARD.

The guy's a cutie, don't get me wrong, but he's... not my type. He's kind of cartoonish, if that makes sense. Not an ugly cartoonish... just... not someone I'd see myself with. He's a blondie... who blushes.
He's cute. That's as best as I can describe.

So, whenever I hear the song, all I can really do is smile sheepishly and act as if my current task is a life or death situation. Paper becomes EVER SO interesting... and my eyesight becomes legally-blind.

AnoMALIE, porque no eres una niña normal?!