Milkshake Mafia

I got hired as a server in a new hip sushi restaurant in August 2010, and I had a pretty cool Manager. He was funny, cocky and kind of dumb and dorky. My favorite type of Manager, basically. We got along great. He took me aside often to tell me how I was his favorite. Then I would catch him say that to other chicks and I’d break his balls about it. On my drives to work, I was really excited for the banter we shared back and forth and I got pretty annoyed if he wasn’t working the same shift as me. My Husband loved hearing stories about him when I got off work. It was like a dream job, except the money was horrifyingly bad because they overstaffed the shit out of the place and did zero marketing, so it was actually a horrible job, but my funny manager took the edge off all that. The staff was awesome too. Just a bunch of fun drunks with lots of charm and charisma. I really enjoyed working there.

I got pregnant in November of 2010, and told everyone there about it in December and things were still the same, but now I got more snacks and more loving remarks. I couldn’t drink with anyone anymore though, but I still felt like a big part of the team. But around April of 2011, my awesome Manager started getting weird. He was uncomfortable with my bulging belly. He talked down to my baby bump every day. He would get grossed out if he heard me discuss ultrasounds, and he shook his head at my bump telling me to cover it up more and to wear looser clothing. I thought it was funny and psychotic at first, and I would just make jokes to him about how he should discuss his mommy issues at his next therapist appointment. But it got unfunny fast when he began cutting my tables down from 10 table sections to 4 table sections suddenly. Now he was fucking with my money. He claimed that my performance started suffering since my belly had gotten bigger. I asked for examples of how my performance suffered and he said I didn’t refill ice teas fast enough on one table during a busy lunch, which was true, but not worthy of that kind of penalty. The crazy part about this is, when I started there, I fucked up so much every shift, and I NEVER got in trouble. I split checks when I shouldn’t have, I ordered the wrong shit for people, I even left trays on tables before, I could barely open a bottle of wine at the beginning, and he laughed it off for months and months. I felt like I was getting favoritism when I was not with child, and screwed after I got pregnant, because by April, I knew for a fact that I was a pretty decent server, mainly because my tips started getting incredibly better and I started getting requested as a server more frequently. It was obvious this had to do with my belly. It was a pretty hip restaurant, so all I can guess is that he didn’t like the way a pregnant woman looked serving martnini’s on his floor at night. I kinda get that, but oh well, its against the law to fire someone for that.

So I feel like he decided to push me out by fucking with my sections and badgering me so much during shifts that I would just quit. When I came into work and saw that I had 3 tables in the worst section during a lunch in June, I fucking flipped the mother fucking fuck out. Mind you, I was 8 months pregnant at this point. I tried to confront him about it before the shift began, but he was hiding in his office with the door closed. So I worked the shift, and like I thought, the other skinny, young chicks I worked with made over $100 and I left with TWENTY FIVE MOTHER FUCKING DOLLARS SUCK MY CUNT YOU DICK I’M PREGNANT AND I WILL KILL YOU AND BURN DOWN YOUR HOUSE AND BREAK YOUR CAR WINDSHIELD MOTHER FUCKER. When he finally decided to stop hiding like a little bitch, I let him know that I was extremely pissed the fuck off, and that we needed to have a meeting. So he made me stay and cut the other two girls. So basically, the closer, ME, had to stay until 4:30pm and leave with $25 while the other girls got to leave at 2:30pm with $100+. That’s fair…NO.

So I left it at, I am pretty sure I am quitting, but I need cash, so I think I’m going to think this over tonight after I calm down and get back to you tomorrow. He was like, “Cool, see you tomorrow.” I left crying and my coworkers (especially the male coworkers) were very sweet and told me how much they hate to see me getting screwed over like that. God I miss those people, good, good people. So anyways, when I got out to my Husband’s car, he saw me crying. He asked what happened with the talk. He got insanely angry that my Manager did not apologize to me, and had a pregnant woman on her feet all day for $25 rather than cut me first if he was going to take my tables away like that. I noticed an XL milkshake in the car while Nathan was fuming mad. Before I got to ask why there was a milkshake here when we don’t drink milkshakes, he grabbed it, ran out of the car, and stormed into the restaurant. I felt in utter shock. I watched the horror that ensued through the windows. This sushi place is all windows, so you can see everything. I saw my Managers walking towards him, and Nathan threw the milkshake as hard as he could on the ground making it splatter all over the floor, hostess stand, part of the bar, and on one customer. I covered my mouth while screaming watching this happening. I started having serious contractions and thought I was going to give birth right there in our shitty 1990 Ford Festiva. I felt like I just saw him murder someone. You have to understand, as much of an asshole as I can be, I have this thing about jobs. My goal at every job I have ever had was to be the most prized employee, and to leave with a great recommendation. My parents raised me to be super polite to Authority, so I always have been, well only when I am getting paid by said authority figure.

When Nathan got back into the car, I told him to drive away as fast as he could and I proceeded to hyperventilate. I should have been laughing, but I was just so worried about money, future jobs, recommendations, etc. After I calmed down, I realized it was totally deserved by this Manager to experience some sort of lashing out, because I wasn’t the only person he screwed over royally. Nathan ran into a few of my old co-workers at bars and they shook his hand for doing that. Which was comforting, to know that people understood his rage.

Five months later today, I have a beautiful baby girl that joined our family and was born in a hospital and not in our Festiva on that horrible day. I have a Husband who I now know will do almost anything to defend me. And I still have the respect of the Assistant manager at the sushi place who I just used for a recommendation, which helped to get me a new job last week. I feel like I had a messy break up with that manager, and it is sad, but life goes on and I learned from it that you really don’t know people until you see all of their sides and colors. I already knew that, but this incident just made it that much clearer to me.


Messin’ With Texas

Living in Texas for the past 3 years has been a big culture shock for me.  I am still not used to it.  I was immersed in the Northeast Irish and Italian culture for nearly 21 years, and I guess because of that I have warm fuzzy feelings for Northerners.  I have lived in Baltimore, Illinois, Georgia, France, New York City, Arkansas, and Connecticut.  And by far, without a shadow of a doubt, Texas is home to the world’s biggest assholes.  

That’s right, I’m “messin” with Texas.  The majority of Texans live out their stereotypes.  Dumb, racist, fat, and unfriendly.  Now, I need to clarify this by saying that there are many awesome, open-minded people from Texas, and I truly appreciate a lot of them.  But on an average day, running around doing errands in North Texas, if you are not from here, you will not be happy with what you find.  The whole “Yankees” are assholes thing is a myth.  New York City is full of some colorful people, but in general, complete strangers will strike up friendly conversations with you.  You will probably have at least one very entertaining and sweet conversation with a cabbie.  If you drop your magazine on the ground of the subway, 5 nice people will run over to help you pick it up.  If you have a baby or cute son or daughter, people will go on about how adorable they are and play peekaboo games over the partition of the lively diner you are eating at.  In general, the people you run into on an average day in NYC or anywhere up North will undoubtedly make you laugh or at least smile.  Even the homeless people are funny, friendly, and entertaining.

BUT, You will definitely get knocked over walking around the streets of the city if you are dragging your feet, but I don’t think that the rude looks you get from walking or driving too slow in Manhattan are a good judge of how the people are there.  Everyone is in a fucking hurry in NYC.  And it is really hard to get to places on time.  When I lived in Brooklyn, I worked as an assistant to Photographers in Manhattan.  They had shoots all over the city, and sometimes in New Jersey.  I would have to get to the locations usually at the ass crack of dawn.  And more than anywhere in the world, punctuality is crucial in the City.  I say that, because there are a million people itching to get your job because the city is so packed, and if you are late, your boss knows you can be replaced within minutes. So, with not having any clue where these places were, I was navigating new territory by foot, and train every day.  Do you know how hard that is?  Well, you do if you have done it.  It is horrible.  Why bother showering, because you end up sweating like a pig within minutes of your travel.  When you finally get on the right subway, if it is rush hour, you are literally sandwiched tightly between lots of smelly people, and some perverts on the train.  So if you are a tourist twirling in circles in times square taking pictures of the “Naked Cowboy” and you accidentally stand in the middle of foot traffic, fucking up someone’s fast pace, and they look at you like you are an asshole, its because you are an asshole.  Get out of the way.  New York is not exclusive to being annoyed with assholes.  We all hate that shit.  Just look at highways, how many dirty looks do you get when you are driving?  We all do something absent minded in traffic every once in a while, and the reaction we get is like, “WHAT THE FUCK IS WRONG WITH YOU, YOU MOTHERFUCKING ASSHOLE!??!!”  People are brutal no matter where you live if they don’t know you and you are keeping them from getting from A to B.  I just think New Yorkers get such a bad rap, because most of the time people are walking, sweating, running late, and cranky.  The stakes are higher, and the face to face confrontation is more cutting than what you experience in the safety of your car.

Now back to Texas, everyone in Fort Worth seems so pissed off and cold to me.  I barely ever have a fun interaction with a stranger.  When I do have an interaction with a stranger, they always seem to have a mental illness or social anxiety disorder or they just don’t give a fuck about making a connection.  It is so weird.

You would think they were all jolly and loud around here, wouldn’t you?  But, no.  (Most) Everyone is shy.  (Most) Everyone is ignorant.  A shit load are openly racist.  And you are much more likely to see a gun on someone’s holster than a smile on their face.  What the hell is everyone so pissed off about??  Texas is supposedly one of the State’s least affected by the bad economy.  No one has to worry about inconvenient travel on a subway or by foot.  We have some of the best Mexican restaurants in the country.  There is so much to be happy about.  And you would think with all of the “CHRISTIAN”, people would be all Jesus like and nice.  NOPE.  I don’t mind quiet unfriendly people completely, but when that is all you are ever exposed to, it gets really sad and irritating.  Maybe it is just “Cowtown”, maybe all the rednecks breathed in too much cow shit and that is why they are so pissy.  I just ended a job recently as a server at a Sushi place.  Yeah, sushi in texas. eww. But it was actually good.  Even though all the guys rolling the sushi were Mexican.  Anyways, I basically never once served someone that I thought had an incredibly entertaining attitude or personality that was from Texas.  All the cool people were from out of town.  The Texan guests were either horrible assholes, or just Blah people.  The people I worked with were pretty awesome, but when I first met all of them, they sucked too.  They were all shy, and kinda bitchy or snooty at first.  Once I got to know them, however, they were really cool.  Except for one guy, he had a personality from day one.  He was a flamboyant gay guy and of course everyone here hated him.  His loud presence made them all nervous.  They acted like he was a animal with rabies that needed to be shot.  He should move up North, they will love him.  And no one will be shocked by him.  So I guess the real problem here is how shy and insecure Texans are.  In turn, it makes me feel shy and nervous because it freaks me out and feels so foreign and fucks with my comfort level.  The worst is how many people don’t tell me my kids are cute.  My kids are the most adorable, sweet, cheek pinch worthy kids anywhere.  When we go out to eat, barely any one even cracks a smile when they see them.  Are they human?  Do they have blood pumping through their veins??  My parents notice it every time the visit.  We were out running around town with my 2 week old baby a few months ago, and plenty of people saw her (in restaurants, stores, etc.) and not one person told us she was adorable.  Actually, one person did.  And she was from out of state.  So I am convinced these people are related to Hitler, and a danger to society.  So that would mean all of North Texas is a Nazi community.

Maybe they smell my Yankee blood, and that is why they are so unfriendly to me.  I don’t know what it is, but it even affects my Husband, who grew up here.  We never get invited anywhere.  We are the only ones who ever attempt to have get together’s or dinner parties. I guess we are just not appreciated here.  And yes, I am bitching and whining and crying about it, because this is our lives.  Its bullshit to live like this, so lonely.  We would like the social life we used to have, and we would love for our kids to have cool friends that don’t bully them like little jerks.  Which is why we are moving to Connecticut in April.  That and because of weather, ocean, relatives, and business reasons.  I give Fort Worth a big thumbs down.  If it weren’t for my Husband’s musician buddies I would have run away a long time ago.  My theory as to why there is so many cool indie musicians here, is because everyone is so depressed that it inspires a lot of creativity from the people trapped here.

UPDATE: I got a lot of flack for writing this, and I get it.  I was being super mean and judgmental to an entire City.  The funny part is, this is probably my least entertaining, and dumbest blog post and it is getting the most attention.  I thought to myself that maybe I was being too harsh, so I gave Fort Worth another open minded try yesterday.  I was out of the house for my weekly “Mommy’s Day out”, and I made sure to smile at everyone I saw (as usual).  I got ONE friendly face looking back at me the entire day.  I must have interacted with at least 35 people.  Only ONE!!  I held doors open (as usual) for everyone, and not one of those bastards said “Thank You”.  I want to punch people in the sex organs that do not thank you for opening a door.  It is so rude and shitty.  Also, on Sunday night, I went to Walmart and we got Griffy his Halloween costume.  (They have cheap, cute costumes there – FYI)  We put the costume that we ended up buying, on him in the store to see how it would fit.  It was an adorable spider costume.  He looked like the cutest little spider in the world.  There was a crowd of at least 30 people around when he had it on, and NOT ONE person even smirked.  I am not expecting a parade for my son, but come on.  He deserved at least a few smiles.  So, sorry Fort Worth, I’m still pissed off with you.  I want a divorce. 

Ronnie and Sammie and You and Me

I am a big fan of The Jersey Shore on MTV.  I think it is just great.  I know there are many people who find it a disgusting show, but I disagree.  I also know that they are a team of writers and manipulators who “script” the show to the best of their abilities.  But with all that puppetry and commercialism and silliness, you just can’t fake the relationship between Ronnie and Sammie.  It is a train wreck.  Those two would be just as sick and demented of a couple of living anonymously in Long Island, as they are now, even if fame had never entered their lives.  (they met on the show, but you know what I mean).  If you are unfamiliar with the show, basically Ronnie and Sammie have a co-dependent relationship.  They intentionally hurt, cheat, lie, and manipulate one other, and they are both jealous hot heads who have a voracious appetite for fighting and screwing.  I do believe that in the place they are now, that they do “love” one another.  I don’t think it is a healthy or selfless love, but I do believe it is love and not lust.  Because if it were lust, they would be having a good time.  My definition of lust is two basically strangers fucking in random areas and ignoring each other when they are around peers.  I really can’t think of anything more blissful than that in terms of pleasure, so yeah, lust is great.  It is my conclusion that, if you are truly in love, you are fucking miserable 60-80% of the time.  “miserable” in different degrees and for different reasons.  Maybe you are miserable because you cannot stand how your wife or girlfriend who you adore, is too friendly and touchy feely with other men.  Maybe you are miserable because you never get laid by your spouse or partner.  Maybe you are miserable because your husband or boyfriend undermines you in public.  Maybe they are too bossy.  Maybe they are poor as fuck.  Maybe they are kinda stupid.  Maybe they are cheap. Maybe they are a drunken ho who has cheated on you a number of times and it just kills you that you still love them.  But there is one thing for goddamn sure, and it is, you are in misery A LOT if you are really in love.  I know this because of my personal experiences, and because I have pretty much studied this topic since birth.  I have always, always, been fascinated and bewildered and curious about how people in love interact.   There are a certain freakish percentage of the population that have unusually healthy relationships.  I bet it is about 10%.  These people, and I have met them, and I don’t get it, say things like, “we have been married 40 years and never uttered the word divorce”.  Or they say “we just don’t fight.  We are respectful of each other’s boundaries and we just know how to work problems out peacefully.”  These people definitely have some skeletons in their closet, but I will bet that they actually are pretty peaceful couples when it comes down to it.  But again, they are freaks of nature.  That is just not normal.

Now here is what is normal.  And, remember, I am an expert on the topic.  Saying “I hate you” during heated arguments, normal.  Occasionally having only your hand and your private parts to please each other for weeks to months on end in a long relationship (5+ years),  normal.  Thinking about divorce a lot if you have been married for at least 5 years, normal.  Fantasizing about an ex while fucking your current mate in a relationship of 1+ years, normal.  Wanting (but not actually acting on it) to throw it all away for a mindless fuck when you are wasted, normal.  I could go on and on.  Basically, if you are a horrible asshole, chances are you in love.  I was SOOO fun when I was single.  I was a party animal, and everyone preferred for me to stay that way.  Problem is, I, like most people, am looking for a companion who will be by my side to laugh with about the shit filled diapers we are wearing and the blood in our creamed-cereal-puke when we are 80 years old.  Yeah, I really want that.  I want the security of knowing I will have my husband (god willing he survives this long) to make me laugh until I breath my last breath.  My ideal death, is laughing so hard when I am 98 that I have a heart attack and die.  Oh, at the same exact time that my husband dies.  Nothing is worse than being an old widowed fart.  That is like going bankrupt emotionally.  It must feel like such shit.  So that can’t happen.  But I am getting off track, I am trying to explain how marriage is miserable but necessary for most people.  You know movies about prison?  Like, American History X or Shawshank Redemption?  They show how fucking horrible and miserable the time they spend there is getting fucked in the ass by scary gangs, having mean wardens, no freedom, too many chores, but there is a silver lining.  They get to make relationships that are so valuable it takes the memory of the pain away.  That is how marriage is, to me at least.  It is so shitty.  I would so much rather be fucking a new guy every month, getting all excited about this new fuck a thon each morning, and be able to go drinking with my girlfriends every weekend flirting with guys like I am 19 and not giving a shit every night.  That is, if it actually was fulfilling to do that.  That is the problem with being single.  It is not fulfilling.  It is too boring.  Too sad.  Too pathetic.  Too trashy.  That is why we all want love.  Even the lying assholes who say they prefer being single, they don’t.  We all want it.  We all need it.  At some point or another, it gets soo old.  And we just want someone to fart in front of and who makes us laugh, and someone who we can shit in front of and they will still want to fuck us.  But you can’t get all that convenience without a price.  Just as Sammie and Ronnie have so clearly shown us on The Jersey Shore.  But it is so addictive because we don’t want to part with someone who can be funny, sexy, ridiculous, and disgusting all at the same time but still fuckable.  I mean, I don’t know about you, but if I was having a one night stand, and the guy (or girl) told me to run out and get them some pepto bismal because they had the shits, that would be a done deal.  So nasty.  But when my husband needs me like that, it doesn’t change my feelings.  That is love.  Being able to be covered in shit and green ass gasses and still be lovable to your partner.  We all need someone who will still love us while we are nasty.  But as much as I love him, I literally want to kill him. like a lot.  He is so selfish and childish.  He is a disorganized broke ass.  He doesn’t fuck me nearly, not even close, pretty much never enough.  He needs to shower waaaay more. He has cheated and lied.  He is that guy who has “girl-friends”  aka….dumb dick head.  He is the cheapest guy I have ever met.  But somehow with all of these shitty, crappy, horrible, sucky, kill me now, fml, i hate it all, pull the trigger, i need a drink, this sucks problems,  i still love him.  What. The. Fucking. Hell.  It makes no sense.  So here is the big reason we are together…He makes me laugh harder than anyone I have ever met.  And I guess that is where I am screwed, because that has always been my #1 requirement of a guy, and he scores BIG TIME.  It almost trumps all the other shit.  That is how much I love to laugh.  I am willing to give up my sanity, my vagina, my convenience, my freedom, all for shits and giggles.  I don’t know whether that makes me sweet or retarded.  I have been with guys that are ambitious, rich, hot, sexually available, emotionally available, reasonably funny, and totally into me.  And I was bored out of my mind.  While in relationships with these guys, all I would think about was someone really funny one day whisking me away from these douchey douchers.  The guys I dated in college were very desirable.  Tons of girls would tell me how “lucky” I was to be on dates with them, and how “all the girls” wanted them.  Well I just couldn’t give two shits.  Because they weren’t good enough.  Because they didn’t make me stomach-hurt, fall on the floor, snot out the nose laugh.  The price I am paying is clear.  As of now, I have no car.  We are on welfare.  I am sexually frustrated.  I want him to listen to me about his shitty business tactics and how they could improve.  I am stir crazy 98% of the time because he is the non-adventurous type.  I want to divorce him a lot because of these things, but then he makes me laugh.  And then he makes my babies laugh.  To the point that we are all crying tears of laughter and getting an insane ab work out from the funnies.  And it turns it all around.  My mother will never understand this.  She thinks I deserve better.  I agree.  I think he is pretty shitty to me in a lot of ways,  compared to how the boring good guy would be.  But I guess I would rather be entertained than treated right.  Maybe we have an Ike and Tina-esque type of thing going on, I don’t know for sure.  But I do know, that I am not alone.  Other relationships may not have the exact shape and size and circumstance as us, but I know that is common to feel depleted in needs categories to the point of misery, while you are in a long relationship.  So when Sammie gets mad at Ronnie for straying, but then goes right back to him, and he to her after all the nagging, I get it.  They can’t live without each other for what they DO do for one another. Even if it is just one thing.  That one thing may be the deal-maker.  And might be so rare and precious to find, that you just can’t let it go when you do find it.

So If you are one of the million people out there who is presenting a squeaky clean appearance of your relationship either on facebook, in public, on television, in politics, etc.  You are really just making the world more confused.  I just wish everyone would be more honest about how hard relationships are.  Do comics really need to be the only ones to have the balls to say it like it is?  Because the more people out there who are posting facebook statuses that have been windexed and bleached for our reading enjoyment, the more hopeless, honest people or worried people, or skeptical people feel, and the more poorly informed children and single people feel.  The second I think I might be wrong, might be too cynical, because I have met or seen or heard about a “perfect” couple, they soon end up divorced, or dead.  Seriously.  It just doesn’t exist.  No one gets out without lots of scratches and bruised egos.  And the more happy happy shiny happy happy you act, the more horrible and demented it must be.  So thank you, Ronnie and Sammie for airing your dirty laundry, and being judged to no end and stuck as a disgusting caricature, all for entertainment’s sake, because the truth is, 70% of your audience is just as, if not more disgusting, co-dependent, and demented than you two, whether they want to face that or not.

I feel ya, Brooke.

I just had a baby 6 weeks ago, and my hormones are a piece of shit right now.  Guys, if you want to know what postpartum anger/anxiety/depression feels like, just imagine having a hot stripper get you all hot and bothered, start to jerk you off, then step on your dick right before you cum with her hooker heel while she forces you to listen to her about how she was raped as a little girl for hours.  That is what it feels like for a girl.  Sorry if that is kinda abstract, but that scenario seems like a perfect hell for a guy, and hell is what postpartum depression is.  So that is what I am in right now.  I used to think postpartum depression was just an excuse for whiny bitches to feel sorry for themselves for having a new responsibility, and having the attention diverted away from them.  But no,  Brooke Shields is right and Tom Cruise is wrong.  It is fucking hell.  God I hate that I am “one” of them.  The postpartum crazies.  But I guess I had no choice.

Today my Husband told me “you don’t handle things well”.  So combine postpartum depression, homesickness, loneliness, no car-ness, and sleeplessness and you get this kind of response in my brain:

What things?  All things?  Some things?  Many Things?  Life?  What, do I suck at life?  You are telling me I suck at Life?  You hate me?  You never loved me?  You are a bad guy.  I made a mistake.  This is all too much.  I need air.  I will go outside.  There is not enough air in the air.  What the hell, is someone burning a fire next door, I can’t breath, where is the air?  I will go for a run.  Why is everyone watching me?  Why is everyone staring at my belly?  They think I have a weird run.  They think I will never lose my baby weight.  They are judging me.  I hate them.  I am such a bad mom.  We were too poor to have kids.  Responsible people get rich before they get knocked up.  They will never be able to go on tropical vacations.  It’s my husband’s fault.  Yeah.  He should have done this.  He should have done that.  Why doesn’t he do this.  Why doesn’t he do that.  I am so fat.  I am getting wrinkles.  God hates me.  I should meditate.  Okay, OHHHHMMMM….but, but, but, but, but, why, why, why, why, cry, cry, cry, cry, yell into a pillow.  I hate this pillow.  That never works.  Break something.  Oh, we need that. Put it down.  Try being a cutter like the kids on MTV.  Oh, that will hurt.  Never mind.  Its my Husband’s fault.  Why did I turn down that sweet guy in middle school.  I should have dated him.  His family was rich.  Then I would be rich.  Then my kids would be able to go to Tropical islands.  I understand gold diggers now.  They are just savvy investors, not whores.  I wish I had a car.  I wish I had a cell phone.  I traded money for romance.  The romance is lost since the baby was born.  Will it ever come back?  “WWAAAAAHHHH”, OH!  baby is crying. Baby needs to nurse.  “MOMMY MOMMY MOMMY MOMMY.”  OH! Toddler needs me.  But baby is attached to boob.  Don’t want to detach baby from boob, for fear of further nipple pain.  Toddler will have to wait.  “MOMMY!! MOMMY!!  WHHEERRREE ARE YOU???”  Hold it together.  Your ex would laugh at you right now.  Get the last laugh.  He can’t win.  You need to win.  Charlie Sheen is a douchebag.  But he is kinda smart too.  What the hell.  I need to get hammered.  I need to get hammered with Charlie Sheen.  What?  I need a line of coke.  NO!  I am a mom. That is wrong.  That is horrible.  What is wrong with you.  Keep it together.  What time is it?  4pm???  It needs to be toddler bed time NOW!  I can’t do this.  This is too hard.  “Yes, honey, I will get you your juice in just a minute.  Waaahhhhh.  I said I would get it.  Please be patient.  Waaaahhhh.  Oh, don’t you start now, baby girl.  EVERYONE CALM DOWN.  Let’s go outside. Oh, it is 105 degrees out.  Nevermind.”  Why the hell do we live in North Texas.  This is hell on earth.  I miss my friends.  I miss my mom.  I miss my dad.  I need a car.  I can’t let people know I am struggling.  Everyone needs to think I am great.  Everyone needs to be jealous.  They can’t see me like this.  They can’t hear about me like this.  I am NOT like this.  This is not me.  I am not weak.  My nipples hurt so bad.  My brain hurts more.  My stomach hurts, I need to eat.  But not too much, I need to lose weight.  Is is nap time yet???  “yayyy!  Go down the slide!  Whheeee.”  I just want to scream.  “Yay!  this is fun!  show me how high you can jump.  Oh, calm down lil girl.  momma’s here.”  I shouldn’t have called my mom today.  She will just use this against me.  When I forgive him, she will say all the wrong things.

So yeah, Psycho pretty much.  It is such a huge burden.  It sucks.  Luckily it won’t last forever, but for shits sake.  One minute of this is long enough.

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