Category Archives: boo hoo

I’m a loner, Dottie.

For years, I have had an inkling, in the back of my mind, that I might be a loner.

When I truly, TRULY think back, I’ve displayed “party of one” tendencies for most of my life.  In Kindergarten, my teacher remarked to my mother that I often sat on the carpet* alone, playing happily by myself.  Not to say I didn’t have friends, but I also didn’t wail and moan if I wasn’t constantly surrounded by them.

Then, second grade and the bullies hit. One, in particular, was named Ashley Butler. Ohhhhhhhh how I loathe that name, even all these years later. Actually, Miss BUTTler was the only real bully, but she made it feel like the world was against me.

I started to realize that people can and will hurt you, whether you’ve done anything to them or not.

For the next ten years of my life, I had a fairly typical childhood that one has when occasionally being harassed by bullies, but not being the class reject, either.  Having friends, but not  being voted class president (though I was almost always elected representative.)

In high school, I never could quite fit in with people. I had friends, sure, but I also had the Redneck Princesses of the school (rough redneck girls who didn’t realize they were rednecks, but who were also quite popular) who loathed the fact that i really didn’t care about them.   I didn’t think at night “I wonder what Brie or Amy will think of this outfit if I wear it tomorrow?”  I had a friend who wondered things like that, but I thought she was foolish.

My thoughts ran more to, “How can I avoid making eye contact with Angie if she passes me in the hallway?”

I began to develop strategies to cross over to the adjacent hallway if I were ever walking around between classes and encountered someone who made me uncomfortable.

I didn’t really care if I seemed like a standoffish bitch, I was just trying to survive high school.

In college, I thought the world would be different and I would make friends that would last a lifetime.

Wrong.

I joined a Christian group (maybe that word should be in quotations) and, my freshman year, I encountered a few people who were “like” me.  The punk listening, plaid pants wearing, funny and outrageous kids of the mid-nineties.

That year, I also encountered horrible acne and a prescription for large doses of Accutane.

Anyone in the know will tell you that using Accutane will quite possibly fuck up your emotions and your life.

These “Christian” friends I’d made, the ones who were more “normal” than I, were some of the meanest people I’ve ever met. Mostly the girls.  They would pick on me behind my back for having a crush on handsome boy in our group, then claim to be my best friends.

They would practically yell at me about piddly things and one in particular (who honest-to-God had hair on her chest) told me to “stop being so emotional” when the medication got the better of me and I ended up in tears.

These were people who were clearly not following the “love one another” rule.

The “friends” in my dorm were just as bad.  None of them realized I was saddled with crippling depression, made that much worse by my medication (I was naive to the side effects before being prescribed this horrid drug, because I blindly believed my dermatologist knew best. FALSE.)

My sophomore year of college, I lived with a true-to-life cokehead, whom I had actually met through the “Christian” group.  She decided that wasn’t the life for her, and I wasn’t about to judge her for it. I did, however, move out after she kept losing job after job, dropped out of school, and invited all her cokehead friends to dirty up our apartment.

During this time, my affinity for solo activities deepened.  Jaunts to go running on campus, for walks around town, etc became more common place. I sort of wished I had someone to share them with, but I was okay.

Then, I actually had a best friend after a while. We had a solid five year rollercoaster of a friendship that abruptly ended on my 25th birthday.  She’d begun dating a boy who was a previous patient in the rehab facility where she worked (recipe for disaster) and basically ditched me for this lowlife (who screamed at her, left bruises on her, etc).

I think it was at this point that I realized I didn’t need to devote that much of my life to any one person, because it ended up biting me in the ass.  This girl was quite unbalanced, and I didn’t take note of it before, even though people told me things like. “She’s insane,” and “You really need to break up with your best friend.”

I have always been the one people go to when they need advice, or someone to be seen out at a restaurant with, or an ear that will endure hours of venting and a mouth that will offer empathy.

This is most often not reciprocated (earlier this year, someone whinily lamented to me, “Why does nothing ever go right?” about some minor issues she was having, but when I later expressed my frustration at something in my life, I was met with dead air), but I have learned to deal with it.

I am now at the point in my life where I can go for weeks without talking to certain people, because I know if I attempt to make plans and the plans aren’t exactly what they want to be doing right at that second, I will most likely be turned down.

Unless they need me.

So now, I wait for others to reach out to me.

Sometimes they do, and sometimes they don’t.

I have people who claim that I am their “favorite person” or “such a dear friend” that I haven’t heard from in over a month (unless, of course, they needed a piece of information that they knew I could obtain).

So what do I do with this?

I’ll tell you what I’m doing: I’m embracing my lone wolf status.  I am going where I want, when I want, and if where I want happens to be just sitting in my house, so be it.  If I want to take a drive out to the cemetery and walk around, even better.  Going to get tattooed? You’d better bet I’m not asking anyone to come with me.

Because now, these are my adventures, my experiences, and no one else’s.  No one will be there to slow me down, or make me hurry, or give their unwanted input.

I won’t have to listen to someone drone on about their work day, assuming I want to hear it, assuming I have nothing to say because I enjoy my job.  I won’t have to listen to someone talk harshly about their friends, only to have them sing the praises of the same people a week later.

I have started taking time to do more things for myself.  Yesterday, a facial, next weekend, another facial treatment AND a massage.

I mean, I’ve been single for a long time and it’s going quite well.  REALLY well.  I think I might be the one.

*It seems all throughout grades K through 3, each room had a large carpet and we spent a large amount of time on it. In 4th grade, though, no carpet, just desks.  Then, a resurgence in carpet-bearing classrooms in high school as a part of “learning styles.”

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Oh my….

nothing like waiting all week to get some billable work, then finding out you won’t get it until Friday morning.

Then finding out it isn’t the draft you thought it was and it’s incomplete.

Then finding out the sponsor is being assy.

Then finding out the document is not the usual 60 – 150 pages you’re used to, but rather 281 pages of death.

Oy.

But, let’s look on the bright side: the writer is nice and very smart, my scheduling chick knows I’m working hard, and I STILL love my job.

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No no no nononononononono. no.

As I sit here with sore and swollen gums, I am pouting like Veruca Salt without the yelling. Although I feel like screaming.

I usually LOVE going to the dentist.

But not after today.

My usual hygienist, Melinda, was the most wonderful person on the planet.  Super nice, did her job well, and was always fun to talk to.

Today, I found out Melinda is gone from the practice.

And in her place they gave me the most bumbling, sloppy, verbose woman I have ever met.

She scraped me with the pick before she even got near my mouth. She couldn’t adjust her settings, light, chair, whatever else well enough so was shifting CONSTANTLY throughout my cleaning.

She jabbed my gums and muttered “plaque” repeatedly, while running her mouth, getting water all over me, almost in my eye, and constantly  having me shift my head and the degree to which my jaws were open.

Halfway through, I almost told her to GTFO of my mouth. Then, I thought “I’m totally going to tell her that I can’t schedule my next appointment today, then call and ask for Eryn instead.”

Eryn is another super pleasant hygienist who did my cleaning when Melinda was out on maternity leave.

By the end, the dentist (who I also love) informed me I have “a little infection” in my gums and I would need to come back in 4 months instead of the usual 6. NOTE: I have NEVER, EVER, EVER had anything like this happen. EVER. Good teeth, only the smallest cavities, and pretty nice gums.

So I made my appointment with new lady, trying to keep up my “give people the benefit of the doubt more often” thing, and taking into consideration that she’s only been with that office 3 days.

But, if next time is like this time, I am SO bluffing on the scheduling, then calling back and getting Eryn.

I have legit pouted since I left, and have been frantically searching the internet to see if I can find out where Melinda has gone.

She is honestly the very best of all health care providers I’ve ever had.

And now, I no longer delight in having my teeth cleaned.

BAH.

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BRB, Dying

After YEARS of wishing one of my favorite bands would reunite, they have begun posting teasers on facebook (yes, my deactivation lasted a few days short of one mere month). They posted this video from their final show, and I had never seen it before. SO. MANY. FEELS.

To this day, I listen to this band in the car, at home, at the gym, at work, etc etc etc.

They are one of the many reasons NC is awesome, and I discovered them at a time in my life when things were a’ changin’ and I was still in my mid-twenties.

Give ’em a listen.

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yiiiiiiiiiikes

so, my good friend is getting married this evening. SO excited. yet the only wardrobe decision i have made is to wear my sparkly plugs instead of my tunnels. i THINK i have a good black dress to wear, but a cursory try-on is all i’ve done. methinks spanx may be in order.

why do i do this? hopefully i won’t show up in an ill-fitting dress and chucks!

Well, shit. I’m back.

Since I deactivated my facebook account and only use my tumblr for short text posts and lots of picture reblogging, I think I should rejoin the world of wordpress. Yes?

The REASONS I no longer have facebook are as follows:

– dudes I barely knew in HIGH SCHOOL decide to add me, I accept, then receive messages at 1:20 am like “Are you awake?” and then, mere hours later, “Good morning.”  Add in the fact that he’s friends with someone I actually had to block, and you get a problem.

– people putting things like “OMG life is so hard and terrible and I hate it.  Don’t ask, it’s personal.” Oh yeah? Then why the fuck did you put it on the internet to begin with?!?!

– people posting political-HOLY SHIT I JUST REALIZED I STILL HAVE A “MYSPACE” CATEGORY ON HERE. WTF?

*AHEM*

– people posting political rants, anti-president rants, etc. These are usually the same people who either “did not have time” to vote, or spend zero time looking into issues and trying to do something about them.

– my mother making a comment about almost everything I post. Especially if it involves cursing. Shit hell damn fuck, I’m almost 34 years old, okay?

– in the same vein, people thinking “she’s a horrible Christian” if i post something along those lines. I’m pretty sure Jesus isn’t condemning me to hell for saying “dickhead.”

I could go on and on, but I think you get the idea.

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Somebody’s watchin’ meeee! -or- Did I really just say that?

While I realize the internet is a public forum, it still skeeves me out a bit to know that someone in my town googled “the fresh cracker wordpress” and landed here.

I have to wonder: did someone from my office somehow find out the blog title and domain and come here to see if they could catch me saying anything bad about work? Too bad, I never mention the company or what we do. Or name names.  I’ve been spied on by coworkers before, had things I’ve said severely twisted to the point of them being given a whole new meaning. Suck it.

Could it be a friend of mine who just forgot to mention that they came here to get an eyeful of ridiculousness? Maybe.

I have one other suspect, but let’s not talk about that.

IN OTHER NEWS: today I was eating lunch with my friend Amanda and talking about baby names [our coworker’s wife is pregnant] and totally slipped and said, “I like the name Zelda for a girl….” Then proceeded to freak out because what I MEANT to say was “Stella”.

SHE IS STILL EVERYWHERE!!!!!

Things that gross me out: office edition

So by now you know that there are lots of things that I despise and some that even sicken me.  This compendium, of course, includes worms on the sidewalk *shudder* and since my office building is surrounded by sidewalks, my short trek into work often grosses me out.

But let’s take it a step further and go INTO the building.

I know, I know, you’re thinking “Come on, you work in an OFFICE.  How gross can things actually get?”

1. Fluids on file folders.  (alliteration FTW)  Oh yes, when working with file folders all day for TONS of patients (I don’t work in a doctor’s office, JSYK) things can get sticky. Literally.  Some of the grossest office moments come when I’m innocently perusing a file, updating some important document and I see stains.  Often brown, of uncertain origin, but possibly biological (I’m pretty sure I saw an actual booger the other day). Or chocolate.  Either way, keep runny things away from paper!

2. Cubeland nose-blowers.  Oh, yes.  You’d think someone would have the presence of mind to excuse themselves if they need to expel some mucus, but noooooooooooo.  Maybe I’m silly for being bothered by this, but gurgly snot sounds do NOT a pleasant working environment make.  Also of note: do these people not worry about a stray string of snot dangling out there? Go to the bathroom!

3. Speaking of that inner sanctum, let’s talk toilets. More specifically what some of my coworkers often DON’T do after visiting the toilet: WASH THEIR HANDS.  I don’t know how many times I’ve been innocently tinkling, only to hear someone else’s toilet flush, stall door open and then…… nothing.  They walk out of the bathroom without even rinsing!  I’ve nailed down at least two culprits, one of whom is this prissy woman who walks around talking very “essy” (I guess she thinks it makes her sound cultured?) and looking down her nose at people.  Oh, I’m onto you, prisspot.  Those hands are covered in remnants of urine and fecal matter.  That sign I posted on the bathroom door that says “Please wash your hands!” with a sign of germy palms? Totally directed at you. By the way, don’t touch the copier.

4. Also bathroom related and so gross it’s unbelievable: spying blood on various surfaces.  Oh yes, a travesty of this caliber occurred just this week, this time on the toilet roll itself,  and I was appalled.  Ladies, most of us have been dealing with “bloody issues” since we were about 12, so it’s time we got a handle on proper disposal, k?  If you can’t keep it off the floor and the wall (!!), then perhaps you should go back to 4th grade health class.

No wonder I’m always catching something.

things that bother me, list 3

– when I introduce myself to someone, very clearly pronouncing my name  and they reply, “Nice to meet you, [some other wrong pronunciation of my name].”

– the fact that someone in my company had to have a chart similar to this:

– the fact that the above mentioned dumbass took the chart down after being ridiculed by others in her office. i had to create the above pictured diagram in lieu of an actual photo.

– this whole  “being nervous around people” thing i’ve got going on lately. there can be people i’ve known for YEARS and i still get nervous when i see them. what the hell is that?

– stemming from the nervousness, always thinking people won’t remember me.  i don’t see someone for a while, then see them somewhere random, think they don’t remember me, so i don’t speak. then who looks like the asshole? this cracker right here.

– people who don’t reply to text messages. seriously, just common courtesy of saying “i don’t feel like eating dinner out tonight/with you/ever again” will suffice. most of us aren’t comprised entirely of baby girls; we can take it. 

– clicky shoes that women wear in the office. you may remember me mentioning this previously, but this time it’s almost worse because the lady who sits behind me wears them every. single. day. she also doesn’t celebrate birthdays which is weird to me, and i’m still unclear on the “bless you” thing if she sneezes.

Stand up and shout! This entry is mean.

Here’s a list of things I’d LOVE to stand up and shout while at work:

“It’s ‘asterisk’, not ‘asterik’ or ‘asterix’. Geez.”

“Just because you can’t hear yourself whisper-singing doesn’t mean the rest can’t. Shut it!”

“If you’d stop complaining about how overwhelmed you are/how much work you have to do, you’d get it done a lot faster.”

“Is it really necessary to yell every time you sneeze? I bet not.”

“SHUT UP SHUT UP SHUT UP!”

“Oh, I’m sorry.  I didn’t realize the sign on the building said ‘bring all your kids and their friends to run through our office while we’re trying to work.  Every day.’ They’re cute, I get it.  But today they are loud and in large numbers.”

“You just used the word ‘like’ four times in a seven word sentence.  I counted.”

“You smell like a thrift store.  That’s not a compliment.”

“PICK UP YOUR FEET WHEN YOU WALK. ARE YOU REALLY THAT LAZY?!”