Of note:

I say a lot of harsh things about X. But I do care about him. I like having him around, even just in a friendy way. I don't actually hate anybody that much. Except Goth guy. I kind of wish he'd died, rather than my boss (the other person in the world I admit to having hated).

That's why I pop onto my blog. Because all this anger will dissipate. That's why I write down my horrible, hateful words. That way they don't fester inside my heart. Either they'd destroy my heart, or even worse, they'd pop out and I'd hurt somebody that I care about.

My angry rants protect my friends, family, customers, coworkers and even my ex. He may have messed me up on some level, but I was already messed up on a deeper level. I have a mindset that says I need to make myself really useful or else I won't be kept around. I feel like I need to be a door mat or something. Not true.

I just have to remember to give less the next time I have a relationship. Mom told me she used to be the same. She used to give guys everything, feed them, give them herself, etc. And it wasn't until she stopped doing that and turned into a bitch (her word, not mine. best mom ever.) that she started to get guys worth their salt.

It's happening. I'm gonna be awesome. Step one is my body. So I'm just going to have to try to be careful how I eat until I'm done with this class and can start taking the gym a little more seriously. Argh. But life's going to be busy at lots of times in my life.... Eh. It's happening. I will work really hard to figure this out. Just like with my class.

Life hate. Maximum life hate.

I hate myself.

I hate myself because I'm overweight. I know what to do to lose weight, I just don't feel like doing it. Consistently. I know I shouldn't eat it, I eat it, I stick my finger down my throat. How the fuck does that work? I find fun ways to exercise, I get a gym membership. I only do them sometimes. Why? It would be so easy and fun to be healthy. And it would be so easy to get guys. Simple, really. Sexy body plus my awkward but winning personality (just because I try to be nice and do good doesn't mean I can't take a little pride in it) is a winning lotto ticket. The golden equation, actually. Life would be so much more fun if I were prettier. No, wrong word. I am pretty, in my way. But I'd be accessible to more men if I was skinnier. No no, hear me out. I try to be open minded about guys. But frankly I won't touch a really obese guy. It just won't happen. Try as I might I won't be able to look past the folds. It's a real thing. And if I can feel that way, then I'm sure guys have the right to feel the same.

So that's gonna change. Golden goddess, here I come.

I hate myself because my ex will always control my life until he finds someone else. I won't get back together with him, that's not the problem. The problem is that he still lives here. I still worry. I still give him rides and pass out watching him play video games. I still get upset when he leaves for an indeterminate amount of time, or goes to his place. I still feel a little jealous that he's probably talking up all kinds of girls, and worry every time I fuck up and sleep with him that I'm going to turn into "the other woman" by accident, just because he's a man whore and I might not know if there's someone else.

He still flips his shit and yells at me sometimes. Maybe he'll someday yet again flip his shit and hit me. When my cycle was 2 weeks late and I told him it was a cyst he said he was kind of hoping it was a baby. Fuck, dude. What is your problem? You think it'd be cool to have a kid with me? YOU'RE CRAZYSAUCE! I should never have moved out with him. If I hadn't I wouldn't be stuck with him now. I can't date. I can't move on with my life. When he's around his laziness affects me and I can't get anything done.

I don't know if I have the guts to change that. Let's see how I do after step one.

I hate myself because I'm lazy. I can't read 100 pages in a whole day off. Mind you it's biology, not fiction, but that's no excuse. I'm taking a class, seriously just one class, and I accidentally signed up for the accelerated course. FUCKGAHDAMNSHITBAGELCUNTWAGON. Five chapters of plant biology in a week. Plus 2 lab activities, the lab activity I have to make up for from last week because my asshole coworker quit without notice and I got shacked with a shift on homework day, the beginning of the big class science project, which I haven't even begun to decide on, all 5 lectures to go WITH the chapters, and a quiz. In a week.

I am so glad I only took one class. 6 and a half weeks to go. CHALLENGE ACCEPTED. I WILL GET A FUCKING "A". Lol. Pun accidental but appreciated.

That one I can change. And so I will. Bitch.

Dear customer

If your bill is 21.76 and you give me 22 dollars, do NOT. Tell me to keep the change. YOU KEEP THE CHANGE, YOU FILTHY ANIMAL!!! Seriously. It's rude. I don't care if you do complement my hair and make pleasant conversation. This does not make me feel better. Do you even realize what they pay us? What is WRONG with you??

You know what? Every once in a while I will have a customer that apologizes and says they are so sorry, they can't tip me, or they can't tip me well. And you know what? I still count it as a stiff, but I'm not going to keep a grudge. I remember them with some friendliness. I know what it's like to be on the outs with money. I forgive. At least they were nice about it.

But if I see an 80 inch television in the background, attached to a ps3, an xbox360 AND a wii, and you tell me to keep the change? I will tell you to "have a day" as I turn and walk away with my 24 cent tip. I will remember you. I will go back to work and warn the other delivery drivers. I will warn the in-store employees. And the next time you call, they'll tell you it's 3 hours for a delivery.

Someday I'm gonna snap and say "Oh gee, thanks! 24 cents! That's so generous!" And then I will get fired. And I will be okay with that because I went out on a high note. I will have gone down in glorious flames. And they will tell stories of me to the new drivers for years to come.

That's right. Undying glory.

Bitch.

Of note:

I'm back at college. One online class. 8 weeks. Plant biology. Specifically, Plants, people and society. Just one class. Easy, right? Except that half of what was in the first quiz wasn't even IN the book.

THE FUCK IS A CARBON VALENCE SHELL? IT SOUNDS LIKE A DEFENSIVE DEVICE IN A STARWARS FANFICTION!

Of note:

Craaaap. I finally weighed myself post Christmas binge. CRAAAAAAAP. I gained 5 pounds. And I'm getting rid of it. THIS WEEK, DAMNIT! I figure I'm already miserable with my yeast infection. Might as well be starving too. Mmmm bananas. Just. Bananas.

Oh vagisil

Maybe you know what vagisil is. Congrats. You have either experienced a yeast infection, have had the.... pleasure.... of the company of a significant other that has suffered one, or you watch south park.

Gross.

Yeast infections are evil. Every woman will experience at least one in her life time. But there is a select few of very, very unfortunate women who will experience them over and over again, because apparently their vaginas hate them. Introducing your truly.


Never had one? Well fuck you. You lucky son of a fuck. I hate you. You can feel your special place rubbing against itself because it's a little swollen. It itches like all hell. You don't get wet. And it burns when you pee. I'm sure I've bitched about this before. But never in detail.

Solutions for yeast infections.... well I have to say that the companies are pure evil. A seven day cure costs 11 to 13ish dollars. Want a 3 day cure? Well that's gonna set you back 15 to 17 bucks. God forbid you want it gone tomorrow. A one day cure costs twenty dollars or more. And you know they probably all cost the same to make. Unfortunately they have us by the labia. We want the suffering to stop. Especially if we have a significant other.

For me, it looks like a week of celibacy, a 6 dollar tube of vagisil and a few days of going commando.

Basically, I have to keep it clean, dry, and ventilated. So I have magic wipes to keep it clean. And then I just play the waiting game. Thank goodness for vagisil. I go from suffering itchy burning to numb. It's amazing. And without it I'd probably kill a bitch. Any bitch will do.

In the mean time, I guess I'll snack on yogurt. Low fat yogurt.

Dear customer

No! I DON'T carry quarters, nickels, dimes and pennies. I have ones and fives. And no I don't have exact change for a hundred dollar bill. I have twenty bucks on me tops. And I happen to know that if you're paying with a hundred, then for whatever reason, you probably won't tip me anyway. It happens every time. So even if I have the change by some miracle, I'd just rather not risk it being a counterfeit. 

Stiff me the old fashioned way. With damp ones and greasy nickels.

With love, the pizza girl.

Dear customer

Please teach your rude, awkward, snot-nosed children how to tip. If they're old enough to pay for a pizza, then they're old enough to learn how much is appropriate to tip your delivery drivers and waiters.
 
I make 2 dollars less than the minimum wage because my boss thinks you people tip. And when your kid comes to the door, I know I'm getting stiffed.

With love, the pizza girl.

Dear customer

It's time to add a new element to this blog. I'm a pizza delivery driver. And I have things to say about that.

With love, the pizza girl.

Of note:

Damnit. Had to restart my counter.