End of Days

I think, therefore I fear. I have an obsession with Armageddon and the end of the world. I have pretty much been interested (i.e. terrified) in since I was about 12 years old and first really comprehended the implications of death and war. I know most of the prophecies, and have researched almost all of them. I am particularly obsessed with 12.21.2012. I have nightmares about it, I will have periods of time where it is all I think about. I will spend hours online searching for more predictions and compiling lists of independent predictions that coincide. I have pored over the book of Revelations so many times that I nearly have it memorized.

On top of that, I have a serious problem with believing in God. My problem is that I want to believe. I want to believe more than anything I could possibly want, but I have such a hard time. I think too much. I can't help but question. I feel like I just don't try hard enough. Like the answer is on the tip of my tongue, but I just can't get it out.

I'm so incredibly terrified of the end of the world. I'm both afraid that there is a god, and all the prophecies will come true and I'll end up going to hell for being a lukewarm believer, or that there isn't a god and the prophecies will come true and I'll suffer only to die a real and final death. Do I fear hell or do I fear a complete cessation of existence more? It's hard to say. I almost fear the end of me more than I fear hell, but of course if there is a hell, not existing would be infinitely better then going to hell if it really is as bad as it is supposed to be.

One thing I do believe, I do believe that the world is going to end in my lifetime.
Maybe its only because I also fear the alternative, dying of old age. I don't know what's worse. I have such a fear of death and the end of the world that I have panic attacks when I think about it too much. It's ridiculous, really, but I can't help it. When I start to think about it I have to force myself to think of someone else so I don't freak out. If I really could believe that there was something beyond death then maybe I'd be ok. But I can't. I want to, and sometimes I do, but I don't believe it all the time.

What's interesting is that while I've always had this fear, it's never been this bad until Chase was born. Before that, it was all abstract. But now, it's constantly just under the surface. I will be playing with him and someone will make some kind of comment about him growing up, which of course naturally leads me to think of my growing older, and my thoughts progress from there. And then I have to sing at the top of my lungs, or read a book, or somehow detach the thought from myself. I just want someone to hold my hand and tell me that there is nothing to fear.

--Dragon Read more!

Only Rock And Roll Can Save Us Now

Went and saw Chevelle on the 28th. It rocked. They played with Tyler Read and 2 Cents. Very good show. I got to meet Tyler Read and have my CD signed and my picture taken with them(that's Erik and me in the middle). It was on Erik's phone though, so not a very good picture. Still, it was awesome. They were very nice. One of the guitarists gave me a quarter to buy their CD because I was short. How cool is that?



I got into a fight with my mom today. It was over Sam stealing a dollar from me, of all things. An effing dollar. It wasn't that she denied that he stole it, no, she was upset because I was pissed off that he stole from me. Yeah, cuz I'm just supposed to sit back and let him steal from me. He does it all the time, and this is the first time it was money. It wouldn't be such a big deal, if he wanted it he could have asked and I likely would have given it to him, but he lied and said he put it in my mom's purse. There was no way he put it in her purse. There were $10 in her purse when I checked it, all folded together. If he had put it there, he wouldn't have pulled the money already in there out and folded it up together. That's just not how he operates.

She of course called me a bunch of highly uncalled for names and accused me of all kinds of things, namely being lazy and having a bad attitude. Yeah. Ok, cuz it's ok that she treats everyone like shit because nothing is going her way, but if I get pissed off that someone is constantly stealing my stuff from my room WHILE I'M ASLEEP mind you, then I am an effing evil bitch. Uh huh. So now she's saying she won't help me with college and I'm not even sure if she's going to watch Chase when I go back to work on Saturday (I have today, Thursday and Friday off). Just great, right? And I don't know whether or not she is just being pissy or if she really means it. I don't think she means it, because she doesn't stick to her guns (note that this is the reason Sam is a criminal-in-training who never actually gets disciplined because he simply ignores her). But if she does, then I'm royally screwed.

I'm so sick of this crap. I absolutely loathe relying of anyone else, because people constantly stab me in the back or walk all over me, even my own mother. I should have seen it coming though, she started kicking me out when I turned 17 and as such caused me to get kicked out of high school so I had to go to an adult school. I had to work my ass off to make sure I graduated. I got no help. But dear precious Sam, that's a different story. She is doing everything she possibly can to see him pass. The brat is 17 and in 10th grade. She pulled him out of school and put him in home school because obviously regular school isn't working. Of course it isn't working. He's a spoiled brat and doesn't give a damn. He doesn't care about himself, or anyone else for that matter. He wants to fail because he could care less whether or not he actually becomes a productive member of society. He thinks that mommy is going to support him when he turns 18 and is still in high school. She probably will. I hope she doesn't though. He needs to get kicked out and see what life is really like.

It's not fair. I stayed because I wanted to make her happy. I never went to live with dad. I chose to stay. And I got treated like crap, kicked out, grounded all the time, and of course I never got anything good except for a bike that she left down south to make room in the Uhaul for an effing queen size bed for Sam. Like he needed a damn queen sized bed. He ruined it within months of getting up here anyway. But Sam comes back and lives with her when he's 12, about as effed up as a person can get, and he's the flipping prodigal son. He gets all kinds of stuff, a TV, a nice stereo, PS2, PSP, all that. And of course he never got into trouble because she was too afraid he'd go running back to dad. God I hate emotional people. He would never run back to dad. He beat him and made him believe he was a complete idiot. And look, now he really is one.

I'm so sick of this. I need out of here. I need to be able to take care of myself and not have to deal with other people and their stupid irrational emotional bullshit. I am so sick of other people.

Oh yeah, other than that, I had a nice Hallowe'en. I dressed up as a witch and dressed Chase as the Jolly Green Giant (pictures forthcoming) and went to Kim's and then Sara's. It was nice.

--Dragon Read more!

Sleepless in Chico

Disclaimer: I have a VERY dirty mouth. I curse like a sailor. (You can thank my high school friends for that) Please forgive me if I cause offense.

I just want to sleep. How is that too much to ask? Sleep- a basic human need. But no. I get no sleep. This is partially my fault. Sort of. I don't go to bed until midnight or one. But in my defense, I usually can't fall asleep until then anyway. Then, the buffin wakes up either around 2:00 or 2:30 or if I'm really super lucky, at 4:30 or 5:00. If he wakes at 2:00, he still wakes up around 4:30. At 4:30 he suddenly decides that, hey, it's time to wake up and make happy little buffin noises and fuss whenever he pushes his binky out of his mouth or I actually start to fall asleep. Yep. Frickin' fun times, I tell you. Finally, he goes to sleep sometime after 6:00. And then wakes again at 8:30. And stays up for the next 3 hours. Oh, and did I mention I have insomnia? Quite often it takes me hours to fall asleep anyway. Except when I initially fall asleep. But when I wake up after that, all bets are off. No fucking sleep. God. I just want to fucking sleep.

Oh, and pretty much anytime I try to eat, he suddenly needs to be held. Try eating hot cabbage and polish sausage with a windmilling buffin in your arms. Yeah. So not happening. Effing Erik. I hate him I hate him I hate him. He is completely incompetent. Never comes over lately until I ask him. Never flipping buys anything for Chase unless I ask him (had to type Chase like 6 times-- kept typing 'Xhase' lol), and can't change a diaper to save his life, can't burp him, can't take him anywhere because he's an idiot and doesn't know how to drive safely if it where to garner him a million dollars for every mile he drove. Effing idiot. I hope he trips and falls on his big stupid face.

'Oh, I have a son. Oh, I'm so proud of him. I love him so much. Blah Blah Blah Chase Blah Blah...' Imbecile. If you love him then why the FUCK are you not here spending time with him? What about when he needs diapers and clothes? Oh and how you made me feel bad that I made you buy that vaporizer and baby Tylenol when he was sick with the cold YOU gave him, huh??????

You pay like $100 a month in rent to your sister, who, by the way, wants your freeloading ass off her couch like now. You don't pay car insurance, because you have an insurance card that you stopped paying like 8 months ago because you said that they can't prove you don't have insurance when you get pulled over cuz your card says it expires in November. Your only bills are your car payment and your cell phone bill. You don't even pay that medical bill you have or the 3 credit cards that you maxed out.

I don't care if you are suddenly working 30 hours a week. Inevitably, one of your clients will die, or go into a home, or something else, and your hours will be cut drastically. And of course you won't bother calling in to ask for more hours for weeks or even months. Because you're a stupid lazy slob. But you refuse to look for another job because 'you don't like searching for a job'. Yeah. Cuz the rest of us just effing love it.

Oh, and then when you do come over you smell like wrankled ass shoved into a paper bag and ding-dong-ditched on my poor unsuspecting furniture. I tell you as politely as possible that you reek and you need a shower, even offer the use of my shower, and you tell me you have no clean clothes. So I give you 2 dollars that I could use for my clothes, because everyone in this house needs clean clothes in the worst way (but at least our 'recycled' clothes are still pretty much clean and we have the forethought to at least use Febreze) and I only have enough to do one load for each person, and I've been sleeping on a bare mattress for 2 weeks cuz I only have one set of sheets and the buffin spit up all over them and I really need to wash my blankets cuz they smell like dog, not to mention my mom's blankets, which now have eau de wrankled ass on them cuz you sat on the couch when she still had her bedding on it. (yes, that is the biggest run on sentence ever) I tell you to take a shower and wash clothes and then come back over, but of course you don't. I effing hate you. And, on top of the fact that you are completely useless, YOU GET A FULL NIGHTS SLEEP EVERY NIGHT AND HAVE THE BALLS TO BITCH THAT YOU HAVE TO WAKE UP ONCE IN A WHILE TO LET THE CAT OUT. Asshole. Effing useless, uncouth, thoughtless, inconsiderate, waste-of-perfectly-good-carbon molecules asshole. Go eat a bowl of dicks.

--Dragon Read more!

Hands Down

I've been remembering. Little things bring up whispered words and late night phone calls. Things I haven't allowed myself to feel for more than a year are seeping through the cracks and bombarding me at unexpected moments. And it makes me feel so alone. Unworthy and so terribly alone.

And it's that much harder because it comes in layers. I am alone, with no one to sing me silly songs and play stupid computer games with, no one to whisper "I miss you" in the early morning hours. But also alone with no one to talk to about it, missing the words that used to break loose like a dam every time we saw each other, The loneliness brought on by harsh words, one year and 1900 miles. I am alone at 3am when all I want is sleep but instead I have to make a bottle and change a diaper.

I just feel so incredibly alone. Running through Darnassas I am reminded of Aaron, who was the first and last person I implicitly trusted. Who I made the mistake of giving a chance, who could have saved me from all the heartache if he had just said, "I love someone else." The rain falls and I am missing my best friend, whose voice I hear everyday but never speaks to me. I talk to his girlfriend every single day, and I've only spoken to him twice in the last 3 months. And I am angry that I am the only one missing sleep at night, the only one willing and capable of taking care of the baby.

I just want someone to hold my hand and say it's going to be ok. I want someone to miss, someone to sing songs to, someone who will help. But there's just me, and there will only be me for a very long time.

--Dragon


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Superior Leak Protection, My Ass

Dear Pampers Swaddlers:

You suck. You so totally suck. I'm not even going to finish off the two bags of you sitting on the shelf. You're so bad that I am going to forego my normal suck-it-up and use it until it's gone mentality. That's right. You just suck that much. I don't care if the 8-14lb diapers go halfway up Chase's back, because at least they don't leak all over every single item of clothing he owns. So goodbye, you shoddily manufactured, overpriced asscovers. You're supposed to hold pieces of crap, not be them.

--dragon

Yes I know this is a total copout of a post, but it's hard to type with only one hand. Read more!

Even I Realize That This Is A Tad Bit Too Honest

Let me first say that the person in question is a very sweet, kind hearted woman. I do like her. However, right now a lot of things are pissing me off. With much gusto and all that. This is what I would say to her if I could say it and then give her amnesia so she would forget the whole thing. And just so you know, I'm not always a very nice person.

Please stop asking me about the status of my being or the baby's. I am a very private person and I dislike discussing the goings on of my body, whether or not it is currently home to another person or not. Until he can speak for himself, he's going to live by my philosophy of "We don't talk about our bodies in polite company." Anyways, you know what it's like. You've had 5 of them. So just stop asking. Do you not notice how uncomfortable I get when you ask? And by the way, It's not like I see my doctor every day. Unless he suddenly stops moving or something wierd happens, I'm going to assume he's the same from one day to the next. Please don't ask to rub my belly. You are not rubbing the baby. You are rubbing a distended bit of flesh replete with happy little stretchmarks that is covering the baby. Don't ask if the baby is moving or kicking or whatever. I prefer not to think about it. Most of the time, he is shoved up into my ribs having a grand old time contorting my internal organs into new and interesting shapes. Other times he is trying to punch his way out through my nether regions. I personally don't like discussing anything that is that close to my nether regions.



I really want you to stop acting as if you have some sort of right to the baby. So your related. Oh well. If I wanted it to, that would mean diddly squat. Just so you know, you didn't make it. You aren't the one who gets to be a human incubation vehicle. You don't have to do the hard work. Which, by the way, it looks very much like I'll be going that one alone, or almost. You've already had your experience with the "miracle of childbirth" (ugh). Quit trying to act like you have a right to mine. IT IS NOT YOUR FREAKING BABY!!!!

Also, don't get all hurt and upset at me because I am not going to give up my goals to stay chained to this little town so you can have unrestricted access to him. Sorry. I know you decided to let your entire life revolve around your children's existence (oh, and look how that turned out), but I'm not going to. Yes, the baby will play a major role in my life. However, my life isn't going to simply end because I popped out a little pod person. Yes, I'm going to let you be part of his life. Yes, when I move, I'll come back to visit often, and you will be welcome to visit us. But I'm not going to sit here and become a jobless loser because you want another baby around.

I'm really sorry your one daughter is a moron and a whore and refuses to let you see her or your granddaughter. She needs to grow the fuck up and learn that the world does not revolve around her. (Oh, poor widdle baby, her family was so mean to her growing up. Cry me a river why don't you.) However, it is not my responsibility to make up for her lack of humanity. And by the way, you actually have the right to sue for visitation, and you'd probably win, but I'm never going to tell you that because I don't want you getting any ideas. I know you want a grandchild. I don't know why you do, but that's neither here nor there.

And keep in mind, the only reason this one is even in existence is because I royally screwed up. I didn't refill my birth control prescription and wasn't careful. Yes, I'm stupid. I tell myself that every day. But guess what? Unlike some people, including your son (who certainly had his part in this whole baby-making fiasco), I own up to my mistakes (most of the time) and try and take responsibility for my actions. So I'm going to pony up (lol yes I said pony up) and make sure that this baby is loved, cared for, and educated. Call me sick, but I see this as a grand experiment to see if I can do better than half the idiots out there that have no business having children in the first place. Yes, I know that's probably a horrible way to look at it. So shoot me. Oh, and don't tell me there are people (like your sister) who would die to be able to have children and I should be grateful. Believe me, I think she should be able to have children too, and I think she'd make a much better mother than me. However, I don't really have a say in things like that.

Don't get upset at me when I am not happy that you give me something that I don't want and don't have any space for but I have to take for fear of hurting your feelings. It's no wonder your son is such a soft-shelled cry baby sometimes. You asked if I had a baby registry. I told you where it was, and you didn't even bother to check it. You even asked my mom what I needed, and she told you that I really justed needed the basics and didn't want a bunch of extra, frivolous crap. You even told her you were glad I was so level-headed. So why did you turn around and get me a swing? She specifically said I didn't want a swing. If you don't want to get me something that is on my list (which by the way is a damned good, well thought out and incredibly thorough list), then by all means, save your money. I never asked for any gifts. I know you want to "help", but believe me, that was not helping.

Keep in mind that since my mom and brother moved in, the baby will no longer have his own designated space. Instead, he has to share mine. And you know what, I don't want my room overtaken with a bunch of cheap, garish, plastic crap. They baby will not know or care whether it has a stupid swing or a bunch of other space hogging equipment or not. All he needs is a place to sleep, some clothes, some food, some diapers, and someone to make sure he is happy, dry, and fed. I know this is shocking to you, but believe it or not it is quite possible to raise a child without buying stock in playskool or gerber.

Lastly, if I say that I want to keep the gender a secret, don't act like I'm some kind of strange creature who obviously is not from the same species as you. It's my freaking body and I'll tell you as much or as little as I want. Why the hell couldn't I have my little secret? Why is it such a crime to want to know something that you don't? You'd find out eventually. And you'll adore it whatever it's got inside it's diaper. And then, when my silly airheaded friend slipped and told you all the gender, why did you have to say, "oh, now I can buy a bunch of cute boy clothes!" When I told you a major reason I didn't want to tell you the gender is because I didn't want a bunch of gender specific crap.

People get too carried away with the "cuteness factor" of babies. That is why I didn't want you all to know, because you can't seem to get it through your thick heads. I hope and pray for the slight chance that it is a girl just so I can spite you all and dress her in all the "cute" little boy clothes you got me. Oh, and by the way, I live right across the street from a baby consignment shop. Don't think I'd have any qualms about marching over there and trading in all the stuff you guys got me for what I actually need. I know you purposely didn't give me reciepts because you knew I'd return the stuff if you did. Well guess what, I'm alot smarter than you think, I'll always find ways around whatever kind of roadblocks you put up.

I know this makes me sound like a heartless bitch from hell, but this is the accumulation of nine months of frustration and biting my tongue because I don't want everyone in Erik's family to hate me from the outset. But boy, am I getting fed up with all this kow-towing. And the baby isn't even born yet!

-Dragon

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Break Out the Booze! Or Not..

So today is my 21st birthday. Wee. Normally one would be expected to celebrate by consuming massive amounts of alcohol and waking up the next morning with a tattoo of the word "Mom" or "Bubba" in an inappropriate place. Not that I ever intended to do any of that (not big into drinking or partying), but given that I have no choice but to abstain, I find it to be somewhat irritating. I hate not being able to make a choice, but rather being forced to follow a certain course due to circumstances. Since I can't, I wanna. Oh well. Tough cookies.

I can get over that, of course. There are plenty of other things one can do on one's birthday, 21st or otherwise, and we had planned a nice afternoon of shopping (since I asked for new clothes, as I am totally lacking in the wardrobe department, doubly so since now my stomach seems to be rebelling against my jeans...damn pregnant-ness...), going to the farmer's market and having dinner, and then finishing off the evening at Open Mic. Pretty much a typical Thursday afternoon, other than the shopping. My brother stayed the night for a few days prior, and my mom was supposed to come over after work. And, of course, just like every other year, something happened to ruin it. My mom came down with the stomach flu or something and had to leave work early, come here and get my brother, and then go home-- hopefully in time to avoid throwing up all over the dash. Poor mom. She looked and sounded terrible. It just makes me mad that every year something happens to screw up my plans. It's enough to make a person stop having birthdays altogether. Oh well. I guess we'll just do nothing, we're broke and can't afford to do anything fun anyways.

--dragon Read more!

Sick

I'm so tired of this. I constantly feel like I'm walking on eggshells trying to avoid hurting Erik's feelings. He's just so incredibly emotional. To make matters worse he deals with his emotions like a child.

Tonight he apparently wasn't feeling good and went to sleep around7:30 or 8pm, which is incredibly early for him. I was completely unaware as I was in another room reading since early in the evening. He had promised to pick up his sister from work when she got off at 11pm and I went in there once to ask why he was in bed so early and to remind him to pick her up and take the laundry down to the laundry room on his way out the door. He made no mention of the fact that he felt sick. Absolutely none. So I went back to my room, completely unaware and didn't talk to him again until about 10:45 when I just so happened to finish the book.

I went to wake him and he was acting all like "poor me" and finally told me after I asked about 5 times that he didn't feel good. Ok, fine. but the way he said it implied that he wanted me to go pick her up. Which would have been fine... if he'd asked me earlier. I was pretty much ready for bed, tired, and not looking forward to going back to work with only one day off (which wasn't really a day off because I spent the entire day cleaning the house while Erik got to "work" for about an hour and a half and then sat around at his sister's watching TV all day). I especially didn't like that he refused to straight out ask me and then got mad when I said that I didn't feel like it. Of course this escalating to him getting all butt-hurt and when I tried to get him to call his sister to ask if she might be able to get another ride he refused because most likely he wanted to make me feel bad (he likes to play the victim alot). Luckily she called and said her boyfriend had showed up and was going to take her home.

Finally, this all was over and we had to go downstairs so he could find the change he'd left in the car for the laundry and I could put stuff in the washer. I put the clothes in and he went upstairs. His sister stopped by because we had her house key, and at that point Erik decided that he was going to be all dramatic and go stay the night at her house. He said he didn't want to have a fight (hello, said fight, if it could even be called that, was totally over by then) and he just didn't want to be around me. Please. For one, I was downstairs. He was upstairs. You can't be bothered by someone who isn't even in the house with you! I told him he was being rediculous and overreacting, and that it was an especially bad idea to try and take his car (it's broken and makes the most awful hissing noise you've ever heard), and on top of all that if he was feeling so tired and sick it was dangerous for him to drive. Finally I talked him out of it and he came back up to the apartment and went to bed.

I'm sick of this. I'm totally sick of having to walk on eggshells all the time for fear of hurting his poor little feelings. I wish he'd just grow some balls and act like a man, not some whiney little boy. I'm not saying I think he shouldn't be able to express how he feels or cry or any of that, but I have thicker skin than he does. Every. Little. Thing. hurts him or upsets him. He won't stand up for himself at work or to people that overstep their boundries, he won't do anything except mope about it. I just can't stand it. As I've probably said before, I tease, I joke around, I sometimes play pranks on people. All harmless. I don't say mean things or belittle him, but somehow he manages to take everything completely wrong. How in the world did he get through school with such an attitude? I mean, he's a bully's dream.

I'm just fed up and I don't know what to do. I've gotten so much better and more easy going since I've been taking my medication, but he still acts like such a baby. How am I supposed to respect him or even want to be around him if all he does is take offense to everything and cry and run away from anything that he doesn't like?

ghaaaaaa... Read more!

Dramatic Bulls---

So today I took care of my correction ticket. $20 and I was out the door. We tried to take care of Erik's correction ticket, but because we got the car insurance at like1:00, and the ticket was written at 10:00, apparently now we have to pay some rediculous $224 fine. Uh, no. Sorry, not happening. Erik, of course, freaked out and when I tried to tell him to calm down and forget about it, we would take care of it another day, decided to play his stupid fricking theatrics and jump out of the car while it was moving. That pisses me off. It really, really pisses me off. The only other thing that pisses me off nearly as much is when he pulls his other little dramatic stunts and ignores me because he says that he thinks that if he doesn't say anything, he can't piss me off. How incredibly stupid. Every time he does it I want to rip his face off. I've told him time and time again that I don't care what he says, there are only 2 sure ways to make me really frinking angry: ignore me or jump out of the moving car. Not to mention that every time he pulls that little stunt, he ends up damaging the door because the inside is loose from the outside, and it makes it so you can't open the door because the inside is stuck on the latch. I don't treat his things like that, but I swear, the next time he does it I'm going to start breaking strings on his guitar. Fixable, sure. But also incredibly disrespectful. Which is exactly what he's doing to me. Also, the next time he pulls that little bit of drama, I'm going to call the cops and tell them he's suicidal. Obviously he must be if he thinks that jumping out of a moving car is a good idea. And then he tells me that the reason he did that was because he didn't want to start a fight. WTF????? Yeah, that makes about as much sense as a fundamental christian defending abortion. Sorry, that doesn't happen. We weren't fighting in the first place. He was throwing a hissy fit about something that we couldn't do a damn thing about today, and then he acting like a child by giving me the silent treatment because he was mad for me telling him not to worry so much. Literally. I said "You need to stop worrying so much. You're freaking out and it's stressing me out." So buddy boy thinks that that is a viable reason to give all of Mangrove Ave. a street performance. Not to mention when he did that I nearly got rear ended because I slammed on my brakes for fear that he would get hurt. Some days I just want to strangle him. Sometimes I wish I was dating a guy who actually had a normal level of intelligence. Erik never thinks about anything. He never has any plans. He never thinks about the consequences of his actions. His one goal in life is to get by with as little effort as possible. He's so incredibly mentally lazy. It's not that he's not capable of thinking, it's that he doesn't feel like it. It's such a waste. Read more!

Roommate Troubles

Maybe it's because I spend a large amount of my time reading articles regarding very small children, but I can't help but think that our roommate is nothing but an overgrown toddler. He's acting like the biggest a'hole I've ever had the misfortune of spending any copious amount of time with. First, he just in general started acting like a jerk. Then he'd throw a huge tantrum when we would ask him *nicely* to clean up after himself or refrain from making a mess in the kitchen that I had just spend about 2 hours cleaning from top to bottom. This of course included calling Erik and I "hypocrites" and "slobs" because we never do anything around here. Which, if you ever saw my house, you would know that is absolutely untrue; as my house is always clean and usually totally immaculate. Then he had the gall to put me down because I am getting a job at Taco Bell. I could care less that it's fast food. It's a paycheck, and right now that is the only thing job-wise I am worried about. The funny thing is that I'm going to probably start out making at least fifty cents an hour more than him and he works at a gas station. As if buddy-boy has any room to talk. Then we were recieving notices from the phone company threating to shut off our phone service if we didn't pay the bill (which, by the way, we were late on because we were waiting on a payment from Rob) so Erik decided to just pay the whole thing on his own and have Rob pay him back. Now, we were essentially broke to begin with, and after that we were completely broke. So we ended up running out of food, at which point we asked Rob again, *nicely* (believe me, Erik is pretty much incapable of being rude or demanding to anyone. He's such a pacifist that it drives me insane sometimes) and even told him we needed the money to buy food. Rob threw a sh't-fit and started calling Erik names and again putting us down for the jobs we held and all that. Now keep in mind that Rob knows I am pregnant and that I can't just skip meals. So this went on for the past 5 days, where each day Erik would nicely ask Rob to pay for at least part of the money he owed and each day Rob would act like a little b'tch and call Erik names and such. Finally, we were forced to ask our relatives if they could help us out, and Erik's mom, Francis was really nice and went out and bought us $125 worth of groceries (about 2 weeks worth). Thank God for caring relatives. After all this, we decided that we'd had enough, and so we stopped allowing Rob to use the phone. His girlfriend (who, by the way, is a complete idiot and a loudmouth who constantly overstays her welcome and eats all our food, leaves a mess for us to clean up, and uses our things without asking) called asking for him and we explained that since he refused to pay his bill, he was no longer allowed to use the phone, and so she told me to f' off and hung up. Lovely, really. So I blocked her phone number. It's not likely that Rob is going to pay his bill before he leaves in a few weeks anyway, and I don't want to hear her loud mouth anyways. Then, this morning, he went to make coffee while I was in the kitchen putting away the dishes, and I politely told him he wasn't allowed to use my coffeepot anymore. Then I said, "If you're gonna be an a'hole to me, then I can be just as big an a'hole right back." Well, of course he threw a fit over that one, grabbed the pot part of the coffeemaker and ran out of the room. He held it over his head like he was going to throw it and I said "So you're going to break it now, are you? Real mature, Rob. Real f'ing mature." So he gave me a dirty look and tossed it on the ground. Needless to say, I moved the coffeepot to our room for the time being. I'm just sick of this crap. We let him stay with us because he had nowhere to go and I was trying to help out a friend. As usual, that backfired. Everytime I try and help someone out, I get screwed over. No more. I'm not ever going to have a roommate again. I'd rather live on the street than live with another self centered asshole. But thankfully he'll be gone soon. Not soon enough, but soon. Read more!

Lifestyles of the Poor and Unknown

I hate money. Well, when I have money, I enjoy it very much, but when I don't (which is the far more common scenario), I hate it. I hate not having anything good to eat in the house, I hate freaking out over whether or not they're going to shut off my phone or electricity (I don't have cable, my only frivolous utility is DSL... and it's part of the phone service so I can pretend I'm not really spending any more money), or the fact that we've only been here 2 months and we paid our rent late last month, and here we are again having to pay it late. We're really establishing a fantastic track record with the property management company. What I really hate is the fact that no matter what I do to try and fix the situation, it seems I have absolutely no options. This sucks. Not to mention that most of the jobs in this town are elderly or disabled care, something I've done and am good at, but now I can't do due to the fact that I can't do any jobs that require a lot of manual labor. So that pretty much cuts out about 65% of the jobs available to me. And frankly, I don't really want to work right now. I have to, of course, but I don't want to at all. I tried to reapply with my old job at the insurance company, but they told me I have to wait 18 months to reapply. Great. So your telling me that I have to wait a year and a half, at which time the baby will be nearly a year old, before I can get a job at the only place in town that actually pays well for people who don't have a degree? Thanks for nothing. Add to all the the pressure that I need to get a job soon, as in REALLY REALLY soon, because after that I won't stand a chance in hell at getting hired because by then it will be totally obvious that I'm pregnant. Ugh at everything.

--Dragon Read more!