Every Day is Laundry Day

I wash myself
And wring me out
And hang myself nicely too

But for all my laundering
I fall just short of feeling new.

The times they are well you know

Whoo. We got a lot going on here.

Mexico. Leaving in a little less than 3 weeks. I've lost 9 pounds (gained back 2. I got tired) and am going to keep on that strain. The losing part, not the gaining back part. I feel pretty good. Despite the weather making everyone crazy. I genuinely believe there's a chemical in the brain that triggers people to fall asleep/eat more when it hits a certain degree of cold. And we go go go Americans who can't take a break for anything (the siesta is such a good idea) are going batty because it's damned cold out and our bodies are screaming at us to hibernate. It's all of us too. If there's no drama going on, a lot of us are so irritable that we're making some just for a little excitement. We should all be sleeping in caves. It's best for our mental health and personal relationships. But we must plug on.
And for the first time in my life, I am really nitty gritty getting down and committing with a man. Yes I've been with the sweet boy for quite some time (and known him even longer) but it's kind of a big reminder of just how much you love a person and are obviously going to be with them for awhile when you are helping them pay off their credit card debt. And moving across the country with them.
We are at a year and a month until we are planning on moving out to California. We did some serious budgeting the other morning and not counting the second job I'm planning on getting, we can have 90% of our credit card debt paid off by December and have saved about $5,000. Whoo. Now I just need to start whetting my talent again. Audition audition audition.
It's unbelieveable how much adulthood sneaks up on you.

Bout to lose my mind bitches!

I swear to God someone is going to feel it today. Whether it's the retards I work with, my completely clueless boyfriend, or if I can't take it out on them, I might just punch myself in the face. But someone is going to feel my fucking wrath today.
1. It is not my job to hide your fucking packages from your (one of 2 that i know of) boyfriend's mom because your spoiled ass has a shopping problem SO STOP ASKING.
and
2. When I say I need a little space, that means I would like it if you would crawl out at least 5 out of the 17 feet you've nestled up my ass. This is not an insane request.

I just can't believe people today. I'm about to go out of my damned mind. I don't think it's that unreasonable to ask for a single evening of keeping our respective spaces and going about our business separately.
And I just can't wait for the supremo moron to show up, let me fucking tell you.
Fuck.

I am not immune

So for all of my "f this" and "f that" and "i've got bigger balls than YOU!" unfortunately I am not immune to the All Women Think They're Fat rule. It's exceedingly annoying, completely self destructive, and totally takes all the fun out of a good meatball sub.
Yes, I have been bitten by the I'm Fat bug. Granted I am bigger than I've ever been before (and if just one pair of my pants fit right now I'd be elated) but I am not anywhere near obese, despite what the bug bite tells me whenever I look in the mirror naked. Flourescent lighting is a big fat jerk, let me tell you. If I ever made someone feel that bad about themselves while I was doing my job, I would expect a big 'ol punch in the face.
Sigh, it's so exhausting though. Constantly beating yourself up when your tshirts look like you're borrowing your 8 year old sister's clothes. It's just this damned desk job. The only thing keeping me from becoming Mrs. Staypuff Marshmallow Man (besides a pre-nup) is living in a 4th floor walk up and walking to and from work everyday. And thank God for it.
OH no I'm sorry, it's ALSO to do with the fact that my gym (which is $15 a month and all i can afford) has been closed since fucking May and has set 4 different open dates that have never happened. It's infuriating!!
Ha, and the worst of it is, food is bar none my favorite thing in the entire world. And I have absolutely no food guilt. Unless a 3rd and 4th serving comes into play (if you've ever had my mom's pork and sauerkraut, you wouldn't stop at 2 either). And I do have a great love for vegetables in any form, and I would definitely say it primarily makes up my diet. Sooooooo, why am I the heaviest I've ever been?
Rarr. Okay bitching over.

Oh me

So I'm tippity typing my way all over St. Internet and Yahoo says "Hey look over here, here's an article on ways to be happy." I say "Cool Yahoo, thanks a pantload". I look merely for preventative and maintenance purposes, as I am in one of my rare and elusive, how you say, good moods. :0)
It has some good stuff, decent enough to make into my Favorites folder, and one of the things says "Don't reward a bad mood. The guilt will last far longer. Shopping, smoking, eating, all these things are quick fixes that are bad something something." Obviously I'm paraphrasing, but you get the jist of it.
So what do I do? I think "Hmmm, shopping you say?" I am broke. As a joke. That isn't funny. Because your grandma told it. I just spent $150 online shopping for pretty things. Oh no don't worry, I used a credit card. Sigh. I am way too suggestive. Those candy aisles at the grocery store were just MADE for people like me.

Dear Dad

You're a fucking prick. That's why mom left you.

Signed,
Pretty much everyone I'm betting.

Not mature, posting it anyway

Okay this has been chewing on me and I'm just going to write it down and let it go.
A friend of mine moved a far distance away to a place where she is doing okay, but not having a whole lot of fun. Plus she says the food sucks. So, for her birthday, I sent her a Portillos package which had in it the fixings for like 10 chicago style dogs. I was SO excited for her to get it, and when she did, she about shit her pants. Said it was the greatest gift ever. I was so happy. Because food is amazing and should be shared with all. So the actual day of her birthday was 2 days later, and she is suprised by one of her friends from back home. She comes flying in and they spend a (from what i heard) fantastic weekend together. I'm super glad for her, honestly I am. She's not making friends as fast as she (or I) thought she would've and it must've been spectacular to have had a close girlfriend there unexpectedly for her birthday. Here's where I turn into a big baby. So she tells me all about her weekend and how great it was, and I happen upon her blog and she posted about her amazingly fantastic birthday and getting old etc. and there is not one mention of the gift I sent her. I love this girl. With all my heart, she is one of the most hilarious amazing mother fuckers I've ever met. But I swear to God, I have spoken with her just about every day in some form or another, tried to keep her in high spirits and just TALKED to her. Shot the shit. And this blonde moron (whom i have no idea why she's friends with, the girl's completely boring) who hasn't talked to her but TWICE in the months since she's moved comes in and all of a sudden it's the greatest birthday ever because Bimbo showed up.
Again, not mature. Totally admit that. I am just getting a little tired in general of being there for people and giving everything I have and then getting none of the glory. I know I know, shut up already.

Seriously losing faith

The longer I live, I find the fewer friends I have. They just keep peeling away like untrustworthy, flakey, worthless, careless layers of stinky onion down a garbage disposal. I know you should count yourself lucky to have the friends you do, but I'm really getting sick and tired, and really sad that more and more of them turn out to be turds I have to stop smelling, and just flush away.
One particular turd I keep telling myself I've already flushed, but there they are again, just bobbing up and down in the toilet, refusing to stop stinking up my life and reminding me that it's there.
And I hate this person. With every sinew of every fiber of every single part of my body, I wish I could just walk up to them with a baseball bat, and watch their nose explode in a spectacular red chrysanthemum as I bashed them full force across the face. There's that anger again. And every single time I feel like I've finally flushed them down forever to their sewagey home, I get a not so subtle reminder, right under the ribs, that they're a selfish, horrible piece of shit, and that the biggest mistake of my life was letting them into my heart and my life. Pure. Raw. Hatred. And the funny thing is is that this particular fecal scab on my life could probably care less about any of these things, should they make way to their ears, as they don't fall under the category of "their reflection". They never cared before, I don't know why I would expect anything now. But I just keep smelling that turd over and over. Still stinks. Still makes me gag. Still makes my heart wrench to know they could not care less. I wish you would just flush already you fucking joke of a human being.
It really doesn't matter how much you give to the selfish. They'll always be selfish. And then when you have absolutely nothing left, naked, penniless, and so so cold, they'll still be selfish. They won't pick you up from squalor. They'll just be really confused and pissed off why you SAID you would give them a ride to their snatch wax, but now you can't, and now they're gonna be late. Some friend you are.