Tuesday, February 26, 2013

...and so it goes

My stitches tore, and I'm on restricted movement. I don't remember if I said so before. I'm watching a lot of episodes of Bullshit! on You Tube and feeling sorry for myself.

Being away from Eviljob has really forced me to think about how much I have come to hate that job. I feel devalued, and frankly abused. I am tired of living by their rules, and feel suffocated by their despotic demands; everything should have been 'more'; nothing is ever good enough, and...I am just over it.

I want to find a better place to be. I am tired of begging people who should know better to listen to reason.

I have let my sleep get out of whack, and...this, everything, has to stop. I hand to impose order again. Somehow.

- Posted using Speak-n-Blog from my Fisher-Price Chatter Pull Telephone

Wednesday, February 20, 2013

Appointment Today

Grr. Now I have to complain about this app.

Check up with the surgeon today. More when I am more tolerant.

In the meantime, Retro Wednesday!


Sunday, February 17, 2013

False alarm

...there are two versions of the song.

But that DOESN'T explain the Mountain Dew.

- Posted using Speak-n-Blog from my Fisher-Price Chatter Pull Telephone


I would love to build a conspiracy theory around this except for the fact that it means nothing. It's kind of like the FACT (don't tell me 'no') that the taste and appearance of Mountain Dew has been changed, only no-one but me notices. I feel like I'm trapped in a RPing thread on /x/, but I've now found something else different:

The song Mexican Radio by Wall of Voodoo, is not the same song that it used to be. No, seriously. There are subtle differences from how it really was. I don't know why they would change it, except maybe to take out the "...radio, oleo, radio..." part at the end because nobody found it funny (?). *I* found it funny (I really can't have been the only person on Earth to have noticed this; someone alive and paying attention in the '80s back me up here), but my *point* is that it has been changed...for no reason.

In Other News, I hate my inheritance cat, I may be mortally wounded, and I may have pulled a stitch. :-/ Anyone want a cat?

And no, I AM NOT HIGH ON PAIN PILLS. They really changed the f'ing song. And no, I don't know who 'they' is. Maybe this is all John Titor's fault. He has changed Mountain Dew, given my stupid cat rabies, and changed a song from the '80s to make me sound crazy.


- Posted using Speak-n-Blog from my Fisher-Price Chatter Pull Telephone

Sunday, February 10, 2013

SDC + opiate = dreams

I am having a hard time staying awake. Maybe I did too much yesterday. But every one of my dreams is turning out to be an involved, movie-length event. I have never had anything like this happen before.

See you in a few.

- Posted using Speak-n-Blog from my Fisher-Price Chatter Pull Telephone

Monday, February 04, 2013

Stop, or I will say 'stop' again!

A friend showed this to me (link below). I am more depressed than ever. How do I make this stop?


- Posted using Speak-n-Blog from my Fisher-Price Chatter Pull Telephone

Saturday, February 02, 2013

So much for friends.

I made the huge mistake of telling someone I thought was a friend what had happened, and I cannot believe it, but she has started treating me as if I have leprosy.

What. The. Fuck.

This just emphasises how correct adversarial philosophies are with respect to 'sharing'. Don't fucking do it. Ever. Even when you are bitterly alone and at your lowest, because the knowledge of how weak and incomplete your fellow man is will leave you nauseous. Some people really are filled with falsity and hate. It is revolting. It is better to not know. Just trust me.

These are the same people who can look at an infant starving to death in Biafra, think 'they should pray more', click off the television, and drive in their luxury sedan to their resplendent church to enjoy their potluck dinner, and not have a moment's thought about whether the baby they saw is even still alive. Great Jell-O mould. Yep.

I am not religious. I am not even philosophically-inclined. I really have no agenda, no...purpose. I really don't believe there is anything but this life, and if there is, it's too fucking complicated for us to even begin to understand, so we should all, to live a happy life, just keep our heads down, do our own work, and not worry about what somebody else is doing.

And I cannot believe that I was stupid enough, pathetic enough, to expect anyone in my life to offer any sympathy, empathy, or commiserate in any form. Boy, have I learnt.

So if I vent, you are here because you want to be. If you don't want to hear it, leave.

And it hurts that I have lost someone whom I considered to be a friend (how wrong I was!). I am already dealing with enough issues in my head with respect to feeling like damaged goods, broken, filthy, and I am scared and more angry with myself and regretful than I can describe. Whatever. I may or may not go into it here. My *point* is that the LAST thing I need is some holier-than-thou bitch, some former fake friend, judging me as if I am all these horrible things and she is so much better. How nothing like this could *ever* happen to her, because she is so perfect.

That's great. I am vacillating between not giving a damn and being deeply wounded. I don't think that I am capable of feeling hate any longer.

I just wish that she would have the dignity to not try to pry any more details out of me. I came to work today to try to finish some crap up before I go on leave, and she turns out to be here too...and immediately starts quizzing me about my medical concerns, my upcoming leave, and so on. I just turned and walked away; I am *done*.

I may be temporarily down, but I am nobody's freak show. Bitch.

- Posted using Speak-n-Blog from my Fisher-Price Chatter Pull Telephone