Classy, spiritual strumpets

My friend posted a diagram of places a person might get a tattoo and what it said without speaking. You know, if you get them on your face you will probably never have the sort of job that includes paying taxes, if you get one on your ankle you are a little princess, etc, etc. There were numerous comments but I'm only going to post the following because let's just cut right to it, shall we?

ME: "If I got a tattoo, I think I would get a tramp stamp of the words "Tramp Stamp".
HER: "How about a tramp stamp written in Japanese characters?"
ME: "Surrounded by cherry tree blossoms. Fuck, if only I'd never promised my mother that I would never get a tattoo!"

Just imagine if I could have that spiritual tramp stamp, you know, something that says "classy" while also saying "I can shot gun whiskey with the best of them." Well now you can! I'll have to hire actual artists to really get this business going but a prototype is a prototype and here is mine. You're welcome.

According to Google's translation program, that is Bengali for "whore stamp"

Cheer Up, Ya Jerk

I was in a rotten mood yesterday. OK, I've been in a rotten mood for awhile now for various reasons, none of which I need to go into because for one, they are all throughout this stupid blog and for two, who wants to ruminate? My life is screwy just now and the second half of 2011 was challenging and, for various reasons, I've been pissy since last week.

Fortunately for me, I have friends who make me giggle with the things they say and one in particular who will try to draw me out when I'm in a particularly stomp-stomp-pout-fuck-you kind of mood. Yesterday he went above and beyond and drew me the following:

This is a lovely example of reciprocity betwixt friends. I was in a horrendous mood and was avoiding almost everyone for fear that I would act like a complete bitch (you know, more so than usual) to people. I was also upset because I was convinced that my old boss was mad at me (and had been for at least a week). Hunter knew what was going on and he drew me a picture to make me giggle and snap out of it. And it worked. I even printed it out and hung it discreetly in my cubicle so that I could glance over at it to laugh when I started thinking angry thoughts.

I say an example of reciprocity because last week, Hunter and I got into a bit of a kerfuffle over a link I'd sent him. He and I have some really big ideological differences we are both aware of. It isn't a big deal because we don't exactly sit around talking about religion and politics all the time. But Hunter was in a shitty mood and I was the the last straw or the flint that was needed and so he briefly took it out on me. It wasn't a huge deal and it lasted all of five minutes. Once I realized he wasn't just treating me like a dick and that he was in a bad mood, I started drawing him this:

 

Because that is what friends are there for. To make you laugh in spite of yourself and to snap you out of your worst moods. As it turned out for me, my old boss has not been mad at me and things are fine there. There are other things that haven't straightened out and I have some issues I really need to figure out and work through, but I also have a Happiness Fat Guy tacked to my cubicle where I can look over and smile. 

Bottom line: If you are prone to shitty moods whilst at work, try to have a friend who has access to a paint program who will waste time drawing you silly pictures.

Teenage Angst Revisited (or, how I feel today)

Rallying the Troops

I told J about Stalker last night. I've written this post maybe three times and now I think I'm just basically going to say this: I finally told J and he wasn't mad at me though he would like to beat the piss out of Stalker. He is, of course, very concerned and I had to explain all of the options I have and how I'm not going to just let things happen.

I felt better for telling him and realized that I think the anger I've been feeling the last few days has been because of the recent events (the 1 a.m. email and the coming to my cubicle for no real reason). I've been put on high alert again after I finally managed to calm down. Hunter knows all about it but he isn't here and can't really help me. No one else in my company knows from me (I'm certain one guy knows from Stalker but I don't know who else he might have spoken with). So I've been on edge and nervous and uncertain without any back up. Now I have J and I don't have to worry so much any more about not having told him.

I didn't go into detail (I prefer not to relive every single moment of my life after all), but I told him the basics and let him know that this did not just affect me but my friend. He convinced me that I needed to tell someone in my office so I emailed my old boss late in the evening. I sent her a very black and white, dry, sterile account of what happened and explained that I just needed someone in the office to have documentation of it. Because what if Stalker decides to try to cause problems for me at my job? I don't think he will but then, I never thought he'd abuse his position and access my email in order to harass me so who knows?

So the secret is sort of out and I'm nervous about how old boss will handle it but I think it was for the best. I also hope, sincerely, that I don't ever waste another post on that mother fucker.

What I Do These Days

I posted the picture of the donkey that I drew and figured I might as well come clean. I've spent too much time during this work week drawing pictures. Bad pictures. Here are the other two.

Weasel

 

Elephant

Seeing as they aren't that great, one might wonder how much time I actually spent. Well, I have to find a picture online (thank you google.com/images!) and then copy from that, usually over notes I've made during the day. There is something therapeutic about it when I'm in a rotten mood.

In other work news

I'm moving! I get to move to a new cubicle and I am ridiculously stoked because it's a great cubicle. What makes it so great is that it is tucked away in a place where few venture on a daily basis so I'll get to hide away from the rest of the office. I made the request to move because there is a lot of traffic in my hallway that I tune out. Then someone will need me and they'll come to my cubicle and scare the living shit out of me (I'm jumpy). But the other benefit is that I won't have to deal with knowing when Stalker passes by. I know that sounds weird but I can usually tell who it is behind me and he has a distinctive walk. I'm still annoyed about his emailing me with his request so I'm more on edge these days. Hell, I had a nightmare last night and he was in it, threatening to tell everyone I work with about what happened. So that distance is a good thing.

Also, my friend, Hunter, is coming back to my office! He's only going to be here for a blink of an eye but I didn't think I'd see him again for years so this is a total bonus. All of my really good friends live thousands of miles away from me so I never get to see anyone and I made the mistake of becoming this guy's friend knowing that he lives far away (everyone else just fucking moved on me). So yippee.

Now I just have to hope my boss doesn't give me an awkward or bad performance review in the next coming months and I should have confirmation for my belief that 31 is going to be a good year (all it takes, apparently, is getting to move to a new cubicle and having a friend visit for a day).

Thoughts, thoughts, thoughts

They never stop. It's the unpredictability. I've decided to exploit my disease whenever possible and I joke about it but still.

It doesn't stop, knowing that a week from now I may be in wheelchair, I may lose my sight, my cognitive functioning.

It has been months. When do I learn to live with it? When do I stop waiting for the other foot to drop? When do I go back to being the me I was before this?

I'm not weak, I'm not to be pitied. I am strong, I am a Viking, I am badass.

So when do I stop being such a fucking scared pussy? When will this stop consuming me?

Twenty One

Do you remember your 21st birthday? I remember mine. It was spent a a TGIFridays with my mom, UAE, Viking, and Uncle, where I had a roasted vegetable sandwich and a giant, blue, frozen margarita with a fish topped glass stir stick. Very tame. These days? Yeah, kids don't celebrate like that.

Upstairs Kid's birthday was Sunday and on Saturday he invited me to his party. Sure, I thought, why not pretend I'm a normal person who does this sort of thing? Huge mistake because 1: yeah, I'm not a normal human being and 2: I'm 31. I drove him downtown and found a parking spot after we found a place without any obvious signage stating that it was illegal. "I better not get towed, mother fucker. And remember, I'm parked on a slant." We went to his buddy's place, a really nice apartment in a building that used to be some sort of hospital and started the night off with 100 proof cinnamon schnapps mixed with apple juice soda (yes, that exists). Before long, the apartment was filled with a bunch of chemistry grad students, all but one of whom was much younger than I. I knew this was going to be the case but figured, meh, I'll be the oldest and can wow them with my knowledge of such things as a 401K, health benefits, and the 8 to 5 workaday world. We actually talked about all sorts of things from heavy metal, the Wu-Tang Clan, and how Austria's greatest trick was convincing the world that Hitler was German and Bach was Austrian. OK, so at one point I may have started yelling about how Paterno fucking dropped the ball and was not blameless because if you see or hear about a child rape, you go to the fucking police and not 'university police' (sorry dude, I don't usually do that. I usually only get really passionate about people not voting in this country when I'm drunk). But all in all, it was a good time and I spent part of the evening with the older guy, looking up his operating physician, explaining health insurance appeal rights, and what he should do in the future should he ever need to.

Around midnight, we walked to a local bar so that Upstairs Kid could be served his first legal drink. Based on the size and brightness of the sign, and the fact that it was three deep at the bar, I'm assuming it was a popular place. I actually ran into a kid that I'd met months earlier and that was rad. I talked to some other random friend of Upstairs Kid about HP Lovecraft. And I drank. A lot. My night started with the schnapps apple juice soda drink and, I believe, ended up with Guinness, but I had snake bite shots and at least one tequila shot in between. I also fell a few times. OK, I was fucked up, but if I'd been wearing different shoes, I might have been upright for longer (I pronate wickedly and before I knew this, I couldn't wear heals. That night, I was wearing snow boots with a wedge heal.) Still, I had fun.

Until I didn't. At one point, I had that moment of "shit, I'm drunk. Yeah, I'm done." So I did what anyone in my state might do, I left. Without telling anyone. I stumbled outside and started walking with the idea of getting to my car. I knew we weren't on the street where I parked but, come on, if you are drunk and you keep walking on the same street, you'll come to the right one eventually right? Fortunately, I didn't meet my car. Instead, I met some pavement and then, after I righted myself and kept stumbling, I met two very nice girls who had either been there themselves or hoped they'd find themselves if they were ever in the same situation, and they helped me to a cab. God bless the midwest and their nice people! These girls didn't even give me a hard time for being shitfaced, alone, and downtown! No, they were just very nurturing and caring and "no, it's OK. Really! Come on, we're going to get you home." How they hailed a cab in Columbus, I don't know. The cab driver must have had a sister or a daughter my age because he took my drunken ass fare and got me home.

Where I collapsed. OK, so he dropped me off a building away and I didn't realize it until I walked into a building and thought "hmm. I don't live here." Then I went to my building, took off my pants, and got under the covers. Sweet sleep! Until... sometime in the middle of the night, Upstairs Kid was sitting on my bed waking me up. He'd been really worried, regardless of his friends saying "she's 30, she can take care of herself!" so he used his key (he has taken care of Johan for me), let himself in, saw that I was in bed, and woke me up to double check. I then proceeded to spend the night taking care of his drunk ass. We sat in my bathroom whilst he held his head over the toilet. I brought him water and an apple (electrolytes?) and just spoke to him. Eventually, I realized he probably wasn't going to puke so I got him into my bed, put a bucket by his side, rubbed his back and assured him it was OK and that he'd be fine.

He was, of course, and he didn't even puke! In the morning we got a neighbor to drive us downtown to pick up my car, where we found, oh, wait, there was a do not park sign! Thus, I had been towed and we then had to find the impound lot. That was fun, going to the lot, where Upstairs Kid insisted on paying and spent some time trying to get cash from the ATM. Whilst he fucked with that, two EMO club kids came in for their car. One of them started talking trash about how he hoped he was never some sad fuck who worked at an impound lot and hungover asshole over here called him out, asked what he did for a living (teaching assistant) and then told him that he was no better than anyone, that I'm white trash and have a better job but that I'm no better than impound guy or EMO guy and that I didn't appreciate his pretentious, judgmental attitude. Upstairs Kid and I had to go outside so we could go to a bank to get the cash and neighbor said "dude, I think you made that kid shit his pants."

We got the cash and my car and then some McDonalds breakfast so all was well. But we both just laughed our asses off because we'd had a great time with some really random shit, my falling in public and then peacing out without word to anyone, his busting into my place and waking me up, the whole adventure that was getting my car. I'm not proud of my behavior and certainly wish I'd had more than a few pieces of cheese before I went out to the celebration, but I'm sure Upstairs Kid's friends have a story to tell and so do I. Plus, you know, life lessons and character building and all that shit.

All in all, I learned two things. 1: A 21st birthday is to be remembered. And 2: just because your friend is turning 21, does not mean that you are the same age.