If Only I Were a Quitter

I left my old department for IT Development because of one thing and one thing only: I really liked the manager. He's not attractive, not exceptionally funny and no, he's nowhere near my age and interests. He allowed freedoms and he promised the work would be interesting.  The only things that made me weary of joining this department were the other women I would be working with.

Not to sound misogynistic BUT older women more often than not dislike the fuck out of me. If they don't act as a mother-figure then they treat me as Maleficent would in that whole "I'll speak sweetly but in a few weeks/days/hours I will transform into a fire-breathing dragon and fuck your whole life up" type of way. There's no in-between. Despite one singular run-in that was squashed immediately, I've gotten along with my co-workers though I still suspect one or the other of them to be responsible for the whole "Facebook/Weed/HR" debacle that almost got me fired.

I just found out starting next week, I'll be reporting directly to one of the women and no longer to the man I signed up for. Considering the aforementioned run-in was with this woman AND she's one of my Top 3 suspects for the whole HR thing, I'm kind of not wanting to do this shit anymore.

Maybe I'll go back to smoking pot in hoped they fire me for it. At least I'll be stoned.

Please call me, Lindsay Lohan.

I was totally freaking out about a lot of things. All day.

After leaving work early to go home and cry about how horrible and uncool my life is, I ended up doing dishes. Again. I have two male roommates, one of which always does his own dishes. He doesn't use a lot but the ones he does use, he washes, immediately.

The dishes in the sink are always mine and the other guy's. I did dishes all week last week, all weekend and again last night. I don't want to have to start a chore wheel ('cos we're all grown, especially him, he's the oldest) but I don't want to have to always be washing dishes. Not sure how I'm going to solve this problem, since I hate confrontation/communication.

As I was washing, though, I started thinking/harping on all the things I hated about my life and how I'd be able to change any of those things.

Okay, that's a lie. I only harped - I had zero intention to do anything other than hate myself forever and wait for that magical morning when I woke up in a Freaky Friday situation with me in Lindsay Lohan's body and I'd get to solve all her problems ('cos obviously that girl's problems are easy to solve).

This morning as I commuted to work (early, to make up for leaving early yesterday), I thought: What if LiLo is waiting on the same thing?  What if LiLo wishes she could wake up as someone else and not have her problems anymore? What if she wanted to trade lives with some random office girl because random office girls don't have problems as big as hers?

Then a homeless woman got on the train and sat three rows ahead of me.  Her hair was natty, her clothes were ratty, a terrible odor emitted from her body and as she used her black plastic bag of belongings as a pillow against the El window, I realized: this woman would probably give whatever she could to wake up as me one morning.

I have a queen bed in an okay apartment in Pilsen where we have a shower/bath combo, soap, food and heating. I have a full-time job that pays okay. I'm a size 13/14 and most of my clothes are in okay if not good condition. I have a bank account and some money for cigarettes. I have access to things that could solve my problems.

So I'm going to do that. I am going to solve my own problems like a grown up.
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But Lindsay, if you ever need to just not be you for like an hour/day/week/month, hit me up. I know some gypsies that could probably help with the Freaky Friday magic.

Q&A w/ Lori Bitchface

Q: Did you check Piercer Dude's Facebook page today?
A: Yes.
Q: Any good news?
A: There's a chick in his pic now, if that's what you mean.
Q: How does this make you feel?
A: Fuck.

Q: Have you evaluated the last 25 years for yourself today?
A: Yes.
Q: Any accomplishments you're proud of and want to share with the world today?
A: Fuck.

Q: Those pants look a little tight around the waist; have you been sticking to your diet plan?
A: FUCK OFF.
Q: So you haven't made any progress, physically?
A: Not recently, no.
Q: Any plans to?
A: ... Fuck.

Q: As a whole, would you consider yourself to be happ--
A: SHUT. THE. FUCK. UP. ALREADY. I hate you! ASDFGHJKLOIUYTRSTXDCYVJBLKGYDC!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Q: Maybe tomorrow will be better?
A: If you are shutting up tomorrow, then yes, tomorrow will be so much better.

Fucking update.

I forgot to mention my bank account.
Fuck you, bank account.
You fucking suck.
Why are you so negative all the time.
Fuck me.

Fuck.

This is what my mood consists of: "Fuck." It's the perfect word to describe my every thought this morning.
Woke up to my alarm: Fuck.
Bathtub takes forever to drain the shower-water: Fuck.
Roommate knocks on bathroom door as I brush my teeth: Fuck.
Boarded a crowded bus: Fuck.
Checked my work e-mail: Fuck.
Getting coffee, co-worker tries to make small talk: Fuck.
Had to change tampon: Fuck.
Felt like updating my blog only to log on and think: Fuck.
Fuck everything.
Fuck my never-shrinking figure, fuck my boring job, fuck my boss for not giving me any cool work, fuck my horoscope for promising any kind of event, fuck my exhaustion, fuck my writer's block, fuck my knocked-up cousin for pretending to have not seen my missed-call until this morning, fuck my upcoming 25th birthday, fuck my friends for not missing me, fuck men, fuck women, fuck fashion, fuck the internet, fuck the governemnt, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck.
Fuck.