So fucking tired

Friday, after work, I had work.  I hate that.  Not a good way to start a weekend.  On Saturday we went to see Snow White and the Huntsman…. FOR THE LOVE OF ALL THAT IS GOOD, DO NOT WATCH THIS MOVIE!!!!  Why was it horrible?  I would like to blame Kristen Stewart, and she was horrible, but the worst part was like one person wrote the beginning (which was okay), another the middle (which was mind numbingly dull) and then another the end, which included a screeched speech meant to inspire the troops.  I think they only went to shut the bitch up.But apparently none of these three people spoke to each other and wrote independently, without a solid plot.  Plot-lines were abandoned without resolution.  total character turn abouts with no motivation or reason behind it.  So basically it sucked balls.  And before someone says it…. it sucks homeless old man who has not had a shower in eight years balls.

So Sunday I had to work night.  I am not a fan of the midnight to 6 shift.  But the worst thing was a 9:30 PM on call.  Which means, me trying to adjust my sleep schedule, because I have my “real” job on at 8AM.  So trying to sleep through the day, but then have to call in at 7:30, no to the oncall, come in at midnight.  So to try to go back to sleep…. Fuck I am tired.  One would think this means I slept like a baby last night…. nope.  Last night I tossed, I turned.  I was a miserable prick most of the day.  So here I am, going on about 2 hours last night.  It’s gonna be a hell of a day.

I will not give cunt-face the satisfaction

So I did not quit my job.  I just was not going to do that.  This is to be my lesson in maturity and as my mom would stay “sticktoitiveness”  Cause, yeah, that is so a word.  I’ve decided I would be zen. I will let it all go and just

I smile, I am calm, I am competent and give each people a true customer service experience that they will hold as their new standards in excellence.

Well…. I refrain from spitting in their food.

No big confrontation.  Cunt-face has not changed.  But I have decided ME saving money for school is far more important than this little person who only HAS a job because mommy and daddy retired, and has never had a real job experience.  

So because I am strong.  Because this is only a part time job for three months before I get to go on to my awesome future.  Because of all that for three months I will tow the line.  I will be “lovin’ it” *groan*

But in my mind

Oh What is that God-awful smell

*Warning, really gross post*

It’s in the fridge. And the freezer. It’s fucking vile stench would gag a maggot. I literally threw out everything, it still smells. I washed it down with bleach. It still smells, though not as bad. Now I put that baking powder filter things in. I hope that ends the stench. I have not found the source. C is slightly pissed at the fridge purge, but there is no way I am eating anything that marinaded in the odor. I’d gag thinking about it. But then he doesn’t know. He was not there at the height of disgusting late yesterday afternoon, coming home from shift and nearly threw up walking by the unopened fridge. I mean WTF?

So it still smells.  Reeks.  In fact even C was admitting he smelt it too, and his sense of smell is not as sensitive as mine.  So we spray the furniture.  The carpet.  We put CLR drain cleaner down the drain.  It’s the fridge.  We pull it out.  Oh. MY. Fucking. God.  There, trapped in a downward spiral a squirrel…. a fucking squirrel, had snapped it’s neck on the rungs of the fridge and it rotting corpse was cooking there in the heat and the mechanical parts.  Brown decomposition running down the fridge, or a C put it “squirrel juice”.  Mmmmm,, yummy:P

   Apartment still smelling a bit, though C says it is just me.  Dude, you did not even smell it to start with.

Trashed

Barbecue at our place.  9 people.  Steaks on the grill.  Salads.  Beer.  LOTS AND LOTS OF BEER.

Typical May 24 weekend.

Woke up this morning, still dressed, laying in bed.  My iPhone went off in my pocket.

C was sleeping on the couch.  The apartment and back yard spotless.  Poor C.  Sometimes I think he should hate my drunken friends and me.  But he loves to just sit and watch us all get foolish and party like lunatics.

Jake and his girlfriend spent the night (hate her).  Ali spent the night.  Kay and her husband left with the kids, thankfully.  It was a hungover crowd this morning, and pictures.  Well if the neighbors did not already hate us they would after last night.  Now I am here, after a day of flea markets, drinking a rum and coke.  Damn, some days it is good to be me.  

officially a quitter

I hate giving up.  I do.  I’ll be the last guy in a losing argument.  I will negotiate, I will wiggle, I will give a little to get a little, but giving in completely goes against my grain.
I’ve been having problems with my new job.  I go home after every shift and feel like ripping someone’s head off, and usually C needs to put up with be being not my usual bitchy self, but mean nasty, “fuck you and your little dog too” attitude.  The worst part of my job is this thing called “on call”.  For those of you who do not know what this is (lucky shits), it means you call in a couple hours before your shift starts to find out if you are needed.  What this means is if you have an on call at 5 o’clock on a Saturday and you get invited to a barbecue, you can’t drink until after you call at 3 o’clock to find out you may be working.  These are considered “scheduled shifts”, even if you don’t work them.  So when your boss promises you 3 or 4 shifts a week, half of those or more, you may not be working.
But back to my barbecue at 3 o’clock.  I call in, no work.  Part of me was pissed off as I would like the hours, the other part was happy to hang up the phone and grabbed a beer.  Then 4:30 hits, I get a call, my “on call” is back on.  Uh, no.  Sorry, drinking an hour and a half in the sun.  No, I am not fit to work.  My boss was being a real dick, so I hung up the phone.
So last night I went in for my shift to find it cancelled.  No call, no nothing.  ”You know you still have to pay me for three hours,” I told him.  He told me he left a message, I went into my received calls, nothing from him.  He just shrugs and said he must have dialed the wrong number.  ”Then you still have to pay me for three hours.”
“No, I called the number you left, if you gave me the wrong number that is your fault.”  I fucking snapped.  ”Dude, you managed to call me on Saturday for the on call you told me was off.”

He “suggested” I re-evaluate how much I want this job.  So basically, I shut up and not get paid for the three hours for the cancelled shift I showed up for, or I have no job.  Fuck that.  I may be able to small that big shit eating grin while customers treat me like shit, but to pick up a dozen hours and have a boss treat me like shit, I think not.
But the oh-so-childish part of me wants to just not show up for my shift.  I want to just send a big “Fuck you” to him.  BUT I probably will not and give a whole two weeks notice and all.  Not for him, but because I don’t want to be that guy.

I hate New Age language

I hate terms like issues and owning something.  To me you can not own your behavior if you do not accept the consequences of your actions.  I do not know how my generation got to the point where we think that admitting wrong behavior is the limit to the consequences there should be.  WTF?  No, feeling guilt is NOT the same thing as accepting responsibility.  Responsibility is accepting consequences.  If you feel your deeds should be consequence free just because you feel bad, you are not really “owning” it.  Because owning something requires accepting all of it.
“I have anger issues”, it sounds like a positive step towards the resolution of your issues.  But no, much like the ownership of guilt, kids (and by that I mean people mostly my age) use this as an excuse to do whatever they fucking want with no remorse.  Not the way it works people.  Having an issue is admitting a problem.  What is the point if you do not try to work on or resolve the problem?  *le sigh*  Some days I really hate my generation.

drunken night

I got silly, stupid, ridiculously drunk last night.  Went out with a couple of friends and the reverse happened of what usually happens.  Usually you plan for about a party of six to eight, and you are lucky if four show.  This time everyone seemed to bring one or two, so there we close to two dozen in our group.    I can’t remember when I’ve had so much fun.
I woke up feeling watched.  You know that super paranoid feeling you get.  I woke with a start, Nelson staring at me from the foot of the bed.  Usually he is not allowed in our room when we sleep, but occasionally he manages to sneak in.  Not pointing any fingers here, or assigning blame, but for some reason when I drink C forgets to make sure he is out of the room.  I would have ignored him, but the moment I rolled over he attacked my foot with claws and teeth.  He is still very much a kitten with a few things.  Though he no longer goes foolish with tinfoil balls (unless you put catnip in it), two things turn him into that kitten he was a year ago.  1.  Laser pointer, better yet, two laser pointers.  2. any movement under a blanket or sheet.
“Get out, Nelson,” moving my foot away from him, which only caused another pounce.  Now C is not a cat person.  He is very much a dog person, and is used to dogs.  In a very strong commanding voice he says : Nelson out.  And of course the animal reacted like any cat in the world would.  He gave me a look of “is he fucking kidding me”, and deliberately sprawled out on his back, stretching, taking up as much of the bed as he possibly could.
C complains the cat does not listen.  Really?