So I decided that my first few blogs were nothing more than me feeling sorry for myself and complaining about how “terrible” my life is. So for a change of pace I decided to tell a funny story about myself. It’s actually a couple of funny stories, but they’re all linked so here goes.
It all started when I was about 19, I had a friend who had moved in with me and my dad and she was finishing up her senior year of HS. One morning her car wouldn’t start to I gave her a lift to class. Everything was great, had my coffee, smoking a cigarette, listening to some killer music, and then it happened. As I was on my way home, I felt the urge, that’s right the sudden urge to take a shit. We’ve all been there, the sweats alongside the severe cramps. I had the hopes of making it home, so I passed by several gas stations. Well, I wasn’t so fortunate, that’s right, I shit my pants. Luckily I was wearing those plastic running pants, so the seat of my car was spared.
Fast forward 3 years and my family and I are on our way to visit family out of state for Thanksgiving. It was a 10 hour drive, so we all wanted to leave early. So we’re headed east on I-40 when around the Louisiana exit it hits me. Again the sweats accompanied by the gut wrenching cramps. SO I start telling my mom, “you gotta pull over, I have to go to the bathroom”, my mind flashing back 3 years. Of course my mom thinks I’m over reacting. So I’m bouncing up and down screaming at my mom that I’m going to shit in her car. Needless to say she pulls off that freeway and I proceed to relieve myself at the nearest gas station. Now my sisters think this is hilarious, one offers to let me use her baby’s diapers. I’m not really in a laughing mood. So after I feel I’m ready to go, we pull out of the gas station to resume our trip, we pull up to the light and then it hits me again. So I decide rather than wait for my mom to turn the car around, I would jump out and run back to the gas station. So I did, I ran through oncoming traffic to avoid shitting myself. Needless to say, my sisters find this story very amusing and share it whenever possible.
Fast forward 4 years, that’s right, I’m now 26 years old. I work with kids, so we take them to parks quite often. One particular Saturday I and my coworkers took all 20 kids to the park. It was a nice day, so a coworker and I decided to take the kids for a walk around the park. Of course, we’re starting to see the trend here, it hits me. The urgent need to take a shit. I inform my coworker that I “really” need to use the bathroom. She informs me that her dad lives a few blocks away and we could go use his. So me and her get into the work minivan and head to her dads. Well, she kind of realized that her dad didn’t live nearby as I realized that I couldn’t hold it. I jumped out of the car deciding that some stranger would let me into their house to take a shit in their bathroom. I was desperate people; I couldn’t afford to shit myself in front of someone. As you can guess, no one answered the door for a crazy woman. So there I stood in all my glory and shit myself. Now we can talk about walks of shame. I’ve had a few, but walking up to a coworker and explaining that you need to go home because you just shit your pants, well that’s shameful. Funny, I’m now that coworker’s boss.
So this is when times get really tough for me and my oh so embarrassing problem. A few months later, my boyfriend and I went to dinner and I had an excellent pesto shrimp and penne. We’re driving home and as you can guess, I need to take a shit. Well I drive and drive and he says turn here, there’s a gas station on the right. So I turn and see it, a Burger king. I’m so excited because I’m not going to totally embarrass myself in front of my boyfriend. I shouldn’t get so excited. I jump out of the car and run up to the doors, and of course they’re closed. I have to think fast, there is no way in hell I’m going to shit myself in front of my boyfriend. So I walk behind Burger King, pull down my pants, and take a shit in the parking lot. That’s right; I took a shit in the parking lot of Burger King. Brett wasn’t exactly impressed, but it was better than sitting in shit on the ride home.
So a few months later, again Brett and I are on our way home from a great dinner, I had prime rib, yum. Now, we live on the north eastside of town, and the restaurant was on the north Westside of town. So we take Paseo home. Of course, right after we get onto Paseo, and there are no exits till 2nd St, it hits me. I should include that as I start to realize I really need to use the bathroom, Brett’s talking about what kind of engagement ring I would want. Now any girl would perk up at diamond talk, but then again I’m not any girl. My sister happens to live right off of Paseo and 2nd St so I tell Brett to go to her apartment and I’ll use her bathroom. Again I should realize that nothing is that easy. So my sister lives in one of those gated apartments and you have to be buzzed in. So we pull up to the buzzer and I can’t hold it any longer, so I jump out of the car and run behind a bush a proceed to relieve myself. Yes, I took a shit behind a bush, in front of my sister’s apartment. She thinks it’s funny, so do I.
So that’s me, the girl who has absolutely no control over her bowl movements. I used to be really embarrassed by the fact that I as a grown woman have repeatedly shit my pants. It’s funny, I have to laugh, and you know your laughing. Because with me around, shit literally happens.
Shit happens
The Job Hunt
It’s painful, its soul devouring, and it’s completely necessary. Job hunting is like trying to get laid; only you’re not drunk and the sting of rejection doesn’t wear off so easily. My current job, the one that was supposed to get me through the last two years of college is equivalent to any one of Dante’s circles of hell. Most people think I’m amazing for what I do, but to me it’s a paycheck that sort of pays the bills.
I work with kids with severe behavioral issues. And we’re not talking spoiled brat syndrome, we’re talking psychotic children who have killed animals, stabbed their foster parents, set their houses on fire, etc, etc. I have been kicked, spit on, peed on, had my hair pulled out, been bitten, attacked with forks, pencils, you get the idea. I get cussed out by children on a daily basis, and yes at times being called “fucking cunt” by seven year olds can be somewhat amusing, it’s generally pretty shitty.
I have come to the point where I not only hate my job, I loathe my job. I cannot stand children anymore, and not just disturbed children, but everyone’s children. You can see the problem since I work with kids. It’s not fair to them or to me. Most of these kids’ problems stem from the fact that the people who were supposed to love them and protect them were the people that severely abused them.
So the job search started about two months prior to my college graduation. It’s coming up on a year since I started the search. I have applied everywhere and for any type of job. Yet I have been offered nothing. I have a college degree and can’t get a job that requires a HS education. I need a new job; I have become an increasingly angry person. I feel like I was lied to. I was told to go to college and get a degree and the possibilities would be endless. No possibilities. I applied for a job that required a HS diploma and 30 hours of college. The reposted the job vacancy. I was more than qualified for the job, and yet I was passed up. You can see where my frustration comes in. It’s like I put myself out there and say “look at me, look what I have to offer you” and I get told I’m of no use and have nothing to offer.
I swear, if one more person tells me to be patient I will scream.
Life as I know it
I feel like a stranger in my own life. I don’t know how things turned out this way, but it’s time for some drastic changes. From the outside my life looks so perfect; perfect guy, perfect house perfect car, etc… But why am I on the verge of collapse? Why do I want to say fuck it and leave my fiancée, sell my car, and move in with my mom?
I’ve overly spoiled Brett. Now he comes to expect the things that I used to do out of love. It’s not love when you tell someone “I make more money, so I expect you to carry the weight around the house”. I work a full time job, and yes the expectation was I would be making more money when I graduated, but the job market isn’t exactly in my favor. Yes I have a job, a job that emotionally destroys me a little bit every day. I see things (from children) that most people wouldn’t believe. I know the horrible side of society, the side that abuses and destroys our youth. I have been trying to find a new job for a year now. I’ve sent out so many resumes that I have lost count. It bothers me that I seem to be “unhireable” and have expressed my disappointment to Brett. So then why is it acceptable for him to throw in my face that he is the bread winner? I work 50 hours a week, he works 40, I have a college degree, he has a HS diploma, and I make half of what he does. So you can imagine my frustration when I come home from a 10 hour work day to be told I need to cook dinner and clean the house while he watches TV.
I used to be so strong. I used to be so vibrant. I used to be so many things that I can’t imagine being now. I’m depressed. I can’t even stand to see my friends anymore, their happiness deepens my depression. I’ve thought about seeing someone about my depression, but I know what the root is. I’m not happy, and I haven’t been for a long time. I need to make changes for me, regardless of what others think or say. I’m tired of making sacrifices; I want the life I dreamed I would have.
My first time
I’m new to the blogging world. I’m not quite sure how I feel about unknown people reading my written thoughts. I have a lot to say, but never say it because for the past few years I’ve been trying to mold myself into a better person. It’s not going so well. I have come to the conclusion that I am bitter, and nothing I or the people in my life do will change that. Once I came to the realization that I am not going to be a happy and fulfilled person, it was rather refreshing.
I live with my fiancée Brett and his 8 year old son. If you knew me in my younger years, you’d be wondering how I have become the housewife in this family. I ask myself the same question every day, but it is what it is.
I am one of the most sarcastic people I know, and that’s saying a lot since I know 5 people. I love the internet because I am extremely antisocial and I get my human interaction without actually having to interact with anyone. I work, a lot. I hate my job. I recently gained a lot of free time and am currently opening auditions for my 80′s cover air band. I refuse to shop at Wal-Mart, I’d rather pay $.05 more than deal with Wal-Mart shoppers. I love history, so I majored in it. I love to cook, and I am a damn good one. I want to learn how to decorate cakes, so I can give them as presents. I love my dog more than I like most people, and for good reason. I wish that people would stop breeding; at least until a parenting license is mandated. And I’m extremely moody, it’s a toss in the air between rude and hateful.
