Morning Blues

Back when I was employed (only three short weeks ago), if and when I experienced anxiety or stress, it was usually at night.  My anxiety (if it was one of those days) usually occurred at nightfall or when I was supposed to be getting tired in the late evening hours.  It was usually triggered by the usual shit - me, being home with nothing to do or to occupy my thoughts, and my boyfriend working late at the club and not answering texts.

Now, I have a whole new breed of anxiety and stress that occurs every morning.  I never thought I could feel anxious or stressed as soon as I wake up from sleep, but since I lost my job, that is exactly how I feel... every.. fucking... morning, like clock work.

It's awful.  It's like, I wake up before my alarm even goes off, and instead of enjoying the fact that I don't have to get up for work and I can actually keep sleeping (which, let's face it, is how we all feel on any given morning we DO have work and wake up by the sound of the alarm), I CANNOT go back to sleep.  I lay in bed tossing and turning, thoughts racing through my mind about how I should get up and get on the computer and start job searching.  I usually end up picking up my phone; then I check for emails, and end up surfing around facebook and Instagram before I decide I need to get the F*ck out of bed and go make coffee and be productive on my computer.

Meanwhile, this whole time, it's like the new day is taunting me.  I used to HATE waking up dog-tired and by the alarm (which I would hit 'snooze' on at least 10 times).  I used to wish I would just wake up, not tired for once, and without having to crawl out of bed five days a week and go to work.  Before losing my job, I legit hadn't had more than 5 days off in YEARS.  The last time I even had more than two days in a row off was Christmas.  Before that, I hadn't had more than two days in a row since I went to TomorrowWorld in September.

I didn't even give myself a break in between switching jobs, because I couldn't afford to do so.  I literally ended my last job Nov. 28th, and started at my new job Dec. 1st.

It has been nice having some time off.  My mind is definitely a bit more clear than it was, and I feel more relaxed in many ways, however, the stress of my future has been weighing pretty heavily on me, as I job hunt and try to figure out what I'm going to do.

I was supposed to go to Italy this summer with my boyfriend; I'm not sure how that is going to happen with no viable source of discretionary income.  I haven't been going out; I've been going home on the weekends to prevent myself from staying here and either resigning to be home alone (since my BF now works all three weekend days....), or spending money on parties.

I know I'll be ok, because I really have no other choice.  I think my biggest concerns right now are paying for healthcare (I decided NOT to change my health plan right now, because it's a good one and I don't want to lose it), and having any bit of extra money to actually have fun with.

I also hate telling people I have no job.  It's not even my fault - my ex-boss was a fucking deviant drug addict who never did payroll on time, partied every fucking night of the week, openly took drugs, and let me go with no notice because she couldn't afford to keep my position. Like, that is fucked up and not my fault.  But I still feel some level of shame telling people I've lost my job, because I feel like I'm letting them down.  Everyone was so happy for me when I got this job, because I had been trying to get out of retail for so long.

I am also now getting anxiety thinking about the fact my boyfriend is going to be doing 4 nights in a row of late night; Thursdays thru Sundays at a new bar.  If and when I DO get another job, I almost pray it's not a Monday thru Friday, 9-5pm, because then, I will NEVER see him again.  We won't have a single damn day off together.  And that is fucking awful for a relationship (I know because it's been my life the past three years, more or less....).

I guess I better drink my damn coffee and hop on Craigslist while the day is young.  I have a phone interview for a writing job that I've already submitted a sample for at 11:30 (so that COULD be promising).  I also have a second interview with that expensive beauty store in the West Village at 3pm. I still have Mt. Fiji on my cheek, so hopefully that doesn't deter them from hiring me.

Embarrassing Things I do When I'm Drunk

I haven't drank since February 5th.  I mean, sure I've had a couple of glass of wine here, or a couple of cocktails there, but I haven't drank heavily or to the point of intoxication since Feb 5th.

Last night, I got sloppy.  Somehow, I have managed to wake up with no hangover, only a slight dizziness. But I hate myself.  I hate myself so much when I drink, because I am a goddamn animal.  I do crazy shit, I say crazy shit, if I have access to social media, I usually end up posting crazy and annoying shit.

I am an annoying person when I drink.  Like messy, sloppy and just generally awful.  Last night started out dandy enough - I had a friend over for some wine, and I basically finished the bottle off myself.  I then proceeded to drink vodka from a wine glass.

I then went to Rosarita's Fish Shack with my boyfriend and friend, where I proceeded to have a margarita.

We spotted Robert Pattinson, and I decided it would be a good idea to ask for a picture - he declined.  I then said, "well can I have a high five then?" and he high fived me.

I was a goddamn sloppy fucking mess.

I woke up at 4am on my couch, thirsty as fuck.

I woke up hating myself and having to piece together the bits I remembered from the night before. Why do I do these things?

Mini Update

Have yet to receive my first unemployment check.  Have two interviews today and one tomorrow, and just in time for interviewing, an underground cyst the size of fucking Mt. Everest pops up on my cheek, distorting my entire facial structure.  I wouldn't expect anything different....


And, to make appearance matters worse, I'm pre-menstual, so that means that despite the fact I've been walking like 5 miles a day and eating healthy, I am 10 lbs. heavier than normal and look extra stumpy.

I love it.

I love my life.

Bijou With The Good Hair

I just ate half a pint of Ben and Jerry's cookie dough ice cream and a decent chunk of Lindt bar, after eating a massive shrimp po' boy, half a pot of homemade split pea soup, half a bag of cheetos, and a generous helping of 16 handles fro yo earlier in the day.  I am on the rampage.  I have nothing left to live for.  I have nothing left to look hot for.  My life is over.

I can feel the insides of my thighs swelling and coming close to rub against each other in the summer heat that is encroaching upon us now that May is here.  I have been applying to jobs non-stop for the past two weeks that I have been unemployed.  Nannying jobs (who the f*ck would hire me to take care of their precious, BPA toddlers if they've seen the stuff I post here, am I right?! No wonder they didn't call me back).

I've applied for retail jobs, because, you know, why not continue to be someone else's bitch for the remainder of my working life?  I have decided there is absolutely no way for me to be myself or creatively fulfilled on the job, unless I somehow score a job writing for TheOnion.com or Vice.com.  Or, perhaps I can write books that no one will publish, because, sadly for me, my parents aren't rich and don't have connections.

It's fine though.  I've been going home the past three weekends in a row, because on top of losing my job, my Grandma also has cancer. If I stay here alone (since my BF works all weekend), I will either spend money I shouldn't spend on shit I shouldn't spend it on (ex. Partying), or I will go off the fucking deep end, because, I mean really - how many jobs can I possibly find and apply for on a Saturday night?

My legs are like two hamhocks since I am officially what I ate.

My hair is really gross.

I can't find a foundation pale enough to match my skin, and the last two bare minerals ones I purchased (which for years seemed to match my natural skin perfectly), now make me look snookie orange.

I am interviewing at a shop on Monday that I cannot even afford the products of.  It's like a facial / face cream place.  I am sure because of my natural, and radiating beauty, they will hire me.  We all know I look so hot without make up or my hair done.  I'm like a fucking wildebeast.  A common stock pig with ONE redeeming feature.  

I am so blessed.  I should probably start a can/bottle collection, or maybe I should start collecting Cardboard scraps to build a "recycled" "tiny" home for the street.

I'm fat. I'm fucking fat.

Sometimes Good Things Come out of Shitty Situations..

... like losing weight without even trying to because you have no job and are under so much stress :D 

I am going to be looking so hot for Mysterland, granted I can afford to go ;)   Brings me back to the days of living on bags of frozen peas while I was working at Highline and making like $170 a week.  Good times.... 

Welcome to My Perfect, Wonderful Life

I thought I had found my dream job when I finally escaped the throes of retail hell back in November.  Sadly, I ended up much worse for the wear, as I was working with a fucking psychopathic, late-to-the-game transgender woman, who was addicted to drugs.  Making the situation even worse, was my asshole licking, douche bag coworker that literally made me want to strangle him every time he opened his mouth.  I've never seen such an ass-kisser in my entire life.... and I worked for Abercrombie and Fitch.

If you have ever worked with an all-female team of managers, and they're all PMS-ing at the same time and you think THAT is bad, try working for a a male to female transgender woman, who is on hormones and taking a combination of recreational drugs for three days straight every weekend.

My boss gave me ecstasy pills as part of my severance package.  I'm not really sure who the fuck does that, but by me telling you this, maybe you can begin to understand the gravity of my situation.

I went into this job with an open mind.  Like, how cool and progressive was it that I was working for a startup that aimed to revolutionize the industry, and my boss was a transgender woman donning heels and crop tops, who openly talked about drugs?  Sounds great right?

It was great, until I started realizing that she bro-ed around with my male co-workers, gave all of the exciting assignments to my male coworker (because she couldn't trust me to take care of them), and just generally disregarded my opinions, despite the fact that I was the only woman on our team (apart from her), and therefore, my opinion should have mattered even more so.

I thought it was ridiculous I was feeling this way - discriminated against by a male to female transgender woman, who clearly should have known about the struggles of discrimination and sexism.  But, I wasn't wrong or alone in my beliefs, as our one, female intern ended up quitting after only a month and a half.  She confided in me that she felt like my male co-worker was the only one whose opinion was being valued or adhered to in terms of decision making etc.  She also said she felt like our boss didn't like her or value her opinions as a woman, or give her the same acknowledgement she was giving to our two male interns at the time.

This really resonated with me, and after she quit, I began to feel the same way, even more so, now that I was once again, the only woman on the team.

I tried to put up with it, and suck it up day after day, reasoning in my own mind "how can I possibly feel this way?" or, maybe it's all in my head.  I started to feel left out, and ostracized simply for being a woman.

My boss also failed to keep me in the loop or have one-on-one feedback sessions with me.  Instead, she regularly conferred with my male counterpart, and would spend chunks of the day shut in her office with him.  He started ass-kissing even more, and made it a point to go to parties with her, and buy Further Future festival tickets too so he could schmooze with her there.  Dude had no life outside of work, and is one of the worst individuals I have ever met.  He would regularly talk about artists being "hot," and when we initially had interns applying, he said that he wished "one of them would be a hot chick."  Um, the last thing I knew, this was a place of work, not a fucking dating service.... I guess I should forgive him though, because he probably hadn't been laid in like a year, since he was such a dick, and I don't know any girl who would fuck with that.

Our boss was a total deviant, making us spend an entire chunk of one of our work days to all sit on our cell phones so we could obtain the coveted Burning Man tickets she so desperately wanted.  Cause, you know, a festival like Burning Man (http://burningman.org) where everyone is fucked up on drugs and running around the dessert naked for 10 days, is essential networking for the further growth of a technology based startup firm!

We were late getting paid pretty much all but two pay periods that I worked there.  I can tell you, being paid late truly made me miss working for a corporate company and a company with HR.   With all of the crap I put up with at my retail job, at least we were always paid on time, and if I was being treated unfairly, I could report it to HR, and I know I wouldn't lose my job for doing so.  It was highly inconvenient to be paid late, and now in retrospect, I can assume (and accurately so), that we were late getting paid because our immature, party-monster of a boss, was spending company money on festival tickets, partying every weekend, and drugs (I watched her take 4 different drugs in one day once).

The day that I got "let go," We were a full week late being paid.  My drug addled boss never came into the office before noon.  Most days she came in around 1:30pm.  We were supposed to be paid Friday, the 15th.  I figured that as usual, we were just a couple of days late getting paid.  However, by the time the following Wednesday rolled around, and I had bills due, I was getting pissed.  I messaged my boss Wednesday morning, asking when I could expect to be paid.... no answer.  She came into the office and was immediately holed up in her office in "investor meetings" all afternoon.  Oh, and by the way, she used to wear mini skirts and crop tops to these investor meetings  - no fucking wonder no one was throwing money at her company.  But, I digress....

The next day, Thursday, we still hadn't been paid.  I was really furious at this point, since she outright ignored my question, and I had bills due, and our paycheck was a full week late.  Once again, she wasn't at work when I came in at 10am, so I messaged her with the same question "When can we expect our paychecks to go through? Thanks!"  No answer.  Although, she did spew a bunch of orders on various other message channels, so I knew full well she was online and had seen my question.  She finally answered with "I'll talk to you when I come in."  Alrighty....

She finally came in at noon, and didn't have time to chat with me until she had chatted with two of my co-workers, behind her office door.  Finally, her door opened and I went into her office.  I once again started the conversation with "Hey, I was just really wondering when we can expect to get paid... " when she told me to sit down.

She went onto explain that she hadn't even done payroll yet and didn't know when she would be able to because there was literally no one whatsoever in the company bank account.  Then, she followed that up by saying she was going to have to "let me go" because she couldn't afford to "keep [me] on the team."

At this point I was irate.  Her telling me she had to 'let me go' actually was a less pressing matter than when I was going to be compensated for the last three weeks worth of work at this wretched, sinking startup run by an egomaniac party monster.

I started crying and laughing at the same time as the shock set in.  How the fuck did I end up working at this joke of an institution?  How the fuck was I getting "let go"? and how the fuck had I not been paid yet?  I think I actually kept saying "what the fuck?!" as she was speaking and "I can't believe this."

I basically told her I wasn't leaving until I had been compensated for the last few weeks, and she decided she would take cash out of her own account to give me.  She told me that she wasn't going to be able to afford to pay the others until an investor put cash into the company account, and I held my tongue since I wanted to tell her that dressing in a dick-grazing, leather mini skirt and crop top probably didn't do much to help the investor situation.

I also confronted her for not telling us in advance that she couldn't afford to pay us on time.  Having a warning really would have helped since I carelessly blew most of my tax return since I thought I could afford to do so since I was making more money.

I took a walk outside for 30 minutes, so she had time to run to the ATM.  During this time, I continued to cry.  My leather purse strap slipped over my body and severely cut two of my fingers on the way down.  Now I was not only walking around sobbing in broad daylight, but also profusely bleeding from my fingers and sucking on one of them to quell the blood.  I was a hot mess.

I went back to the office and took my pay in the form of cold, hard cash.  My boss offered up some ecstasy pills, which I willingly excepted, saying "this is the least you can do for me."  I can't believe that part of my severance package was drugs.  What a damn joke.  For real.... un-fucking-believable.

I walked out of there feeling like a combination of shit, failure, humiliation, regret (for ever working there), anger (towards my mess of a boss, and dick-wad coworker), and also relief.  Thank God I wouldn't have to deal with that shit anymore.

I don't even care if this company turns into the next Google or Instagram (although chances it will never make it that far since it's being run and operated by an egomaniac,drug-addicted mess of a human).   At least I'll never have to work another day, stagnant at an office desk biting my tongue and squeezing my fists so I don't verbally or physically lash out on my asshole-eating coworker who's very facial expressions made me want to choke him out.

I walked home from work that day, in the blazing hot sun, with a puffy face (from crying), bloody fingers, and ecstasy in my purse.  I somehow managed to get hit on by every grandpa, construction worker, high school student, etc. I passed.  I'm not sure who hits on a woman that looks like I looked at that moment in time - someone sick in the head.

When I finally made it home, I was delirious, like crying and laughing.  My WiFi decided to shit the bed as soon as I came home, and four days later, it's still not working.

I am not sure where my life is going or what's going to happen in terms of my job, and the fact that I am supposed to go to Italy at the end of this summer.

I guess it's all for the best though.  I'm scared right now, not having a source of income, but also relieved that I got out of that company, even though it was not the best way to go, since I had no time to plan.

At least I have this awesome story to tell people, and know what NOT to look for in my next job.

Oh, also, the real kicker of this situation is, even though she had no money to do payroll and had to cut me to cut down on costs, when I signed onto Craigslist to start job searching again, I found this:

https://newyork.craigslist.org/mnh/med/5545431612.html

This ad was posted THREE (3) days before I was "let go."  I wonder what money she plans on using to pay this position....

Furthermore, I wish the best of luck to the intern who just slaved away for the past three months thinking he was going to be hired into this position... clearly, he is not, since this is being advertised.  I love it.  What a fucking joke.

Oh, also, because of the stress of losing my job, I am now once again severely breaking out.  This time, I fear I will need to make the leap and just go on Accutane.  Sadly for me, I was paying $300 a month out of pocket for insurance (since it wasn't offered through my old job), and now I will not be able to afford insurance until I start working again.  Looks like things are about to get even better in my life.

#blessed

What I've Been Up To

It's been a while since I posted... far longer than is acceptable.  I haven't *published* an entry in three months.  I say "published," because I have actually written several entries, all of which I can't share publicly (or at least not at this point in my life) because the consequences would far outweigh the pros of being so open and honest about my life. 

So, what have I been up to? Well, I partied every weekend for basically two months straight  (with a few out-of-control weekday nights thrown in for good measure), then of course there is work, and my relationship (cooking, relaxing, eating, movie nights), and I went home two weekends in a row as well.  

Other than that life was going just swell, with no complaints, which (as you know) isn't the kind of inspiration or motivation that drives me to write.  Now that things are not so peachy fuckin' keen once again, the old inspiration has hit me like a ton of bricks.  This means, that I spent the last two weekends home, scrubbing my apartment, babysitting my niece, and putting all of my savage thoughts into writing.

I have found a new, twisted and extremely cathartic satisfaction in writing acerbic Craigslist ads.  I'm not sure why I've taken to this.... or how the idea came to me, but it helps me get my inner demons out, and it is also fucking hilarious to get replies. Here are two such examples:

I Will Get You Hipster Trash Skinny

Have you ever longingly stared at a hipster model's bird-legs as she walked down Bedford Ave. in her One Teaspoon brand rocker shorts, and bull-dyke 90's platform sandals and asked yourself how you can achieve that starving Somalian body?

How you, a common, homely, middle-brow citizen who eats regular meals and drinks in excess on weekends can possibly obtain a thigh gap that is enviable, protruding hip bones, and a stomach that becomes distended as soon as you swallow a single grain of rice?

Have you always wanted to make your friends jealous to the point of accusing you of having an eating disorder? Do you long to make your family question your health when you go home for the holidays? Do you want to make ex-boyfriends suspicious that you might be battling a drug addiction, or instead of eliciting cat calls, perhaps you want middle-aged fat women to openly comment things like "My god, you're so skinny!" or "you need a cheeseburger!"?

If what I have just described is your dream come true, you're in luck. I am about to divulge to you the diet of the hipster models that you envy. In only 3 short months, you can turn your life around and achieve the body that you have healthily been trying to attain for the better part of your twenties. In only 3 short months, you too can walk around in next to nothing in public, post naked selfies on the gram, and spend hours lip-synching into a brush wearing nothing but a triangle-top bikini as you film yourself to share on Snapchat. Does this sound like everything you've ever wanted and more? Good; this is all you SHOULD ever want in this modern world. Because if you can't make normal teenage girls in the midwest develop eating disorders due to idolizing fake ideals, what else is your life good for? Is there anything MORE important than looking good in the photos you snap at Burning Man to post on your IG and show the world how fucking cool you are in your pasties and john lennon glasses and futuristic headpiece?! NO.

You're going to need cash. Lots of cash. And not for those expensive juices - although, those expensive juices will be a good prop, you know. You should carry one around at all times in case a friend tries to invite you out to dinner or a colleague wants to grab lunch - you simply pull it out of your purse and say "I'm sorry, I'm doing this whole juice cleanse thing right now!" Being the ass-licking, posing piece of hipster trash that most of your Bushwick dwelling friends probably are, they will nod in total agreement and ask you how it's going and probably want to try it. Fooling people into thinking you're cleansing is much better than declining real food without an excuse- then they might think you have a "problem."

Anyhow, the cash! You are going to need this cash to invest in your dietary supplements - adderall, and cocaine. Take one adderall in the morning to get that initial high, proceed to take multiple shits (see? Same thing as a professional colonic!), and stave off your appetite until the work day is over. You are allowed to have a few cups of coffee to keep the adderall effect going throughout the day Once you leave work, it's time to keep suppressing that appetite with some Coke.

Keep alternating between blow and molly every night for the next two weeks, and you will be emaciated in no time.

Bad Santa/Mick Jagger Children's Photography  

f you're looking for a Bad Santa/Mick Jagger-esque children's photographer for your next child's birthday party look no further. I will show up to your child's event, hungover as f*ck. My favorite call time, is Sunday morning at 10am after a night of partying with my friends. Once your friends smell the scent of Jameson and Pinnacle on me, they can give me disdainful looks, avoid conversation, and treat me like an invisible servant... they can also judge you for hiring me. Your friends will delight in my sexual pants (courtesy of American Apparel) as I bolt for the bathroom, thanks to the explosion about to happen in my pants because of liquor and coffee consumption. 

As I crawl around the floor on all fours attempting to take photos of your undisciplined, screaming children, you can also shake your head as you watch me taint your precious, BPA-free toddler with my fireball breath. 

I will make sure to look presentable and child-friendly in my sexual pants, and caked on mascara that I slept in. 

For An Extra Fee, the Following can be Obtained: Pit Stains/Extreme body odor, a broken heel, rants to all children under the age of 5 with political context, assault and battery on bicycle delivery people outside of the event, copious amounts of pizza ordered and billed to the host of the event, shared bumps of coke in the ladies room, and pop-up rave full of hipster trash.

And there's a lot more where that came from kids >:-)    

Other than expressing myself via obnoxious Craigslist posts and entries that maybe I will share two years from now, I've been up to the same old - same old:  cooking, alternating between going out and staying in watching shitty foreign films, plotting murder, etc.

And as always, I'll leave you with some sluttery.  You know how we do around here.