I’ve found that being a secretary is a lot like being the star player…of the blame game. People always call you saying, “I called you last week! You said your boss would get back to me! It is now THIS week, no longer last week, and I still haven’t heard from him. Did you even give him the message?” Yes you stupid slut. Now, did I give my boss the message? Yes. Has he gotten back to them? No. Have I reminded him of said message? Yes. Again, has he gotten back to them? No. But it’s obviously my fault, so feel free to blame me you stupid fucking cunt. Rant over.
Who am I kidding? My rant is never over. Last night I worked my first shift as a bartender. Due to it being a slow night, it actually went…..dare I say it….okay? The shift actually went okay. You know what else is okay? Oooohh my let me tell you.
The other night, I showed my roommate Connor (who by the way was not entirely thrilled by the nickname Catman) one of my articles. He said…and I quote…fuck it I’m not using quotes. He said the article was “okay” (changed my mind, I’m fucking using quotes). I was like Okay, you sly okaying motherfucker. You know what else is okay? Your face. Your face is okay…no no wait, I meant to say your mom. Your mom is okay! Okay?! I looked up at him with my deepest, saddest puppy dog eyes and said, “It’s okay?”. The face must have gotten to him because his explanation trailed off as he left my room. I know that writing and criticism are sort of a package deal, but okay? What the fuck does that even mean? That’s the word I use in a text message preceding three dots to indicate my fucking sarcasm. We all sometimes abbreviate it to just “k” so people really know we’re pissed. Not only is this text one word, it’s also just one fucking letter. That’s how little I care about you right now. One letter’s worth. You’re not even worth the full-out spelling…k?
Needless to say, I was disappointed. No, I wasn’t disappointed in catman Connor. I was disappointed in myself. The article I’d written had prompted one of my least favorite words in the English language…okay. It’s one of the rare words where you can add “fuck” in front of it, but it still doesn’t sound right. Ahhhh, fuck Connor. I’m so not OKAY with this! This little half pint feels like her glass is half empty and she wants to get turnt up. The glass is emptying further as she talks in third person.
This week, I sort of hit rock bottom. It caught me off guard because I wasn’t even aware that I wasn’t still at sea smooth sailing. All this sudden, I’m in the mountains falling full speed with only one word in mind…”okay.” Sorry, I hadn’t beat the horse dead quite yet. I digress. This week I felt like I was walking on eggshells. Every single moment of every day, I felt like I could cry over the slightest things like Connor telling me my article was just okay, the lady on the phone complaining my boss hadn’t called her yet, or even the fact that by the time I got to work all the cupcakes in the break room were already smashed. That’s how I feel. I feel like my cupcakes are smashed.
As I said in my last post, I was bored with my straight hair. I literally curled my hair and noticed virtually no difference. Although as an added bonus, I did get a text message from a guy saying he liked my “new” hair. Now with all my cupcakes smashed, do I have to break out an apron and start baking new ones? How many fresh start metaphors do I have to make before I actually get a fresh start? I want one of those moments where you flip to the next month on a calendar and get to see the new picture for the first time…or maybe one of those moments where all the clothes on your floor have been placed neatly back on their hangers…ooh or like when all the counters in your apartment are clean because Connor keeps bringing up your lackluster love life compared to his “way with the ladies.” For the record, there is only ONE lady to be exact. Just one Connor! Just one freaking lady…I love that lady.
The worst part of all of this is, that after a long day filled with writing a horribly, non-APA formatted article, a drive to my hometown, bridal shower, bartending shift, and multiple intermittent crying sessions, I still could not go to sleep. There I was at 3:15 a.m. thinking how Connor probably thought I stayed the night with someone (ya ya laugh it up), my article was just “okay,” and wondering how much my utilities bill would be this month.
I absolutely hate when I’m lying in bed tired, but can’t fall asleep. I’m always like…Body, why aren’t you asleep right now? I’m yawning..hint hint. I’m fucking tired, why can’t you make this happen? I did everything you asked. I put on more comfortable clothing, I turned the lights out, I assumed the appropriate position…fuck I took my bra off! What do you want from me?!! Okay, reread that portion in italics excluding the first sentence and pretend I’m talking to an imaginary boyfriend. That’s totally what she said.
Okay, that made me laugh. Maybe some laughter is all I really needed start climbing up from the rockiest of bottoms. I have been so preoccupied with master’s applications, newspaper articles, and my million jobs that I forgot to have any fun. I did not listen to any of the advice in my last post except for curling my hair…which pretty much got me nowhere….except for a compliment text from a friend and a creepy bar attender that literally tried to throw a dollar at me. Sadly, I accepted the dollar. Give me a break, I work four jobs for a reason. Remember when I mentioned the utilities bill? Eek.
I really wanted to award my skeeze of the day to the guy who threw the dollar at me, but he also tipped me like 120% of his bill soooo….not all that skeezy I guess…Or maybe, I’ve become a well-paid stripper and I didn’t know it. One of the two. So yeah, skeeze of the day goes to that guy throwing the dollar at me…Jeremy’s friend I call him.