Free advice

Do not have multiple apple martinis with sushi at lunch time. I'm almost 24 hours out from this botched gastronomical experiment, and I am STILL regretting the choice to have that second drink. Urp.

That is all.

Dear You, You are NOT a special snowflake. Love, Velma

Ok, so, I’ve been at the current job for about a year, and for the whole time, there has been a note posted on both the microwave and the fridge in our break room that includes the instruction “Do Not leave food in microwave unattended”. There is a reason for this. The microwave has no turntable and from the looks of it it was manufactured only shortly after the discovery of fire.

For a year now I’ve watched people leave food in the microwave unattended pretty much every fucking day. It got bad enough that they sent out an email to all staff, which was also subsequently posted in the break room, describing microwave mishaps, quoting THREE different Safety Bulletins, citing agency policy, and threatening potential disciplinary consequences for leaving food in the microwave unattended.

And PEOPLE STILL DO IT.

Today’s rant is brought to you by one of my fellow cow-irkers in my section. She was in line behind me to use the microwave. I left the break room and stopped by the water fountain on the way back to my desk. And guess who walks past me into the restroom. Said cow-irker. So I flat out asked her if she had read the email posted in the break room.

And this is the best part. Not only did she acknowledge that she read it. She flat out told me she didn’t care. That she only had a half hour for lunch, so she wasn’t going to waste two minutes standing in front of the microwave. TWO FUCKING MINUTES. *rolls eyes*

Good Lord and butter. It’s not like that’s the only time she ever gets to go to the restroom and pee. *sigh* We don’t chain her to the fucking desk. Not to mention I only take a half hour lunch most days and yet somehow I manage to get my work done and pee and eat and still find the time to stand in front of the microwave and make sure my food doesn’t explode all over the damn thing. (Which, btw, happened to someone earlier this week who STILL hasn’t bothered to completely clean up the mess it made.)

Dear Cow-irker,

You are not a special snowflake. The break room rules don’t say “Don’t leave food unattended in the microwave…unless you only have a half hour for lunch.” They don’t say “Don’t leave food unattended in the microwave…unless you think you have a really good excuse”. And they don’t say “Don’t leave food unattended in the microwave…except for you, we don’t REALLY mean you, you’re a special snowflake.”

Love,
Velma

I am so sick of this special snowflake bullshit. You are not special. Yes, I mean YOU.

Dear Rligious Whackjobs, I Don't Fucking Think So! Love, Velma

Ok, I am officially losing my shit over this one:

http://www.latimes.com/features/health/la-na-health-religion3-2009nov03,0,2239900.story?page=1

The same lousy motherfuckers who want to ban abortion and are raising such a fucking stink to make sure that no insurance company that ever sees one penny of government money ever covers an abortion because “GAWD” doesn’t like it…these same lousy fuckers want my tax dollars to cover them getting prayed over when they get sick.

Yeah, that link is not from The Onion.

Let that sink in for a second and you’ll understand why I’m pretty much incapable of writing a coherent rant on this one.

They don’t want their tax dollars paying for an abortion (and you know they’ll eventually try to keep from having to pay for birth control as well). But then they turn around and want me to pay for someone to pray over them.

I am sick to fucking death of religious whackjobs and the disproportionate amount of power they seem to throw around. The vast majority of people disagree with them on pretty much EVERY issue. So why are we catering to their ridiculous whims? Especially considering that no matter what the Democrats do, these lunatics aren’t going to be happy and they aren’t going to support them anyway. It’s stupidity on a level that beggars belief.

Dear Religious Whackjobs,

I don’t believe in your god. Cope. And I do not give you permission to try to run my life in his name. Here’s the deal…stop trying to tell me what to do and I’ll consider not making fun of you anymore. Until you get your nose out of my private parts, consider yourselves fair fucking game.

Love,
Velma

Seriously. Paying for prayer. The mind fucking boggles.

Dear Thing 1, Get Bent, Love, Velma

Sigh…well, I finally got back most of my stuff from Thing 1. Not all…but most.

I know I haven’t ranted in a while. I’ve just been too happy. The new guy is fantastic, and it’s hard to work up a good rant when you’re being treated well.

However, I figured an update on the ongoing saga with Thing 1 is in order, since he acted like a complete idiot on Monday.

I got sick and fucking tired of waiting for him to get his shit together and contact me back about exchanging our stuff (I had been waiting for a couple of weeks since the last time we had talked on the phone). So, I called on Monday around lunch. He was home sick, but not too contagious, so we set things up for the exchange at his place on Monday night. Fine. Whatever.

So I get home from work, I eat a little something, and I head over.

And I pull into his driveway.

Where there is a huge honking SUV parked behind his truck.

I’m surprised and totally not surprised at the same time.

He is such a chicken shit that he had to invite over the new woman he’s dating to be there when I got there.

He knows I don’t like strangers.

He knows I really don’t like strangers in my shit.

So he invited someone I don’t know to be there while we dealt with the aftermath of 6 years.

What. A. Tool.

Not a surprise, though, since I met most of his other girlfriends that exact same way…no warning whatsoever.

Anyway, I get there and he hands me a pile of my stuff that isn’t even close to everything. Which I told him. And, of course, with the other person there, I can’t just start going through his house looking for my shit. He agreed to call me when he finds things that are mine, but I’m not holding my breath.

And of course I had to say goodbye to the dog in front of a complete fucking stranger who did not have the common decency to leave the room so I could cry and say what I needed to say to the puppers.

Leaving Thing 1 – no tears. But I loved that dog and it hurt like hell to have to say goodbye. He missed me. He was all over me from the second I got in the house.

I just keep telling myself, as do most of my friends, that I’m lucky to have gotten out. What kind of man would ask his current girlfriend to be there for that kind of situation? What kind of man would think it was appropriate to ask her? What kind of man would put someone he once called his best friend into that kind of situation?

Oh, I already answered that…he’s a complete tool.

Dear Thing 1,

I want my shit back. You are not off the hook until everything you have that belongs to me is back in my possession. Being a slob who can’t find his own shit in his own house does not absolve you of this responsibility.

And yes, Thing 1, I know exactly why you did it. You invited her over so that you wouldn’t have to have an actual conversation with me. Because if we actually talked, you might have to own up to what you did…you might actually have to face it and feel bad about it. And you invited her over so that once I left you could have someone to tell you what a horrible psycho bitch I am and pet you and love on you and tell you it isn’t your fault. Well, newsflash, it is your fault. And you’re pitiful.

Get Bent,
Velma

I’m glad to have this mostly over. I doubt he’ll ever call me that he’s “found” any of my remaining stuff, but it’s not anything I can’t live without, so no biggie. He “forgot” to return my apartment key on Monday, but I forgot about it too because I just wanted to get in, get my stuff, and get out, so we’re doing that exchange tonight on my way to the fabulous guy’s place. And then we’ll be done. Closure…it is a good thing.

Why I don't trust men

Everyone on earth needs to read this:

http://shakespearessister.blogspot.com/2009/08/terrible-bargain-we-have-regretfully.html

I have stopped being a commenter at Shakesville for reasons that I'm not going into here. But I can't abandon the site completely because every so often, Liss just nails one.

Dear Thing 1, I quit. Love, Velma

What do you do when someone says and acts like they don’t want you in their life anymore…but they refuse to contact you to set up a time to get your stuff out of their house?

I cannot for the life of me figure out why Thing 1 is refusing to answer my calls and emails on this topic. Currently there are two theories duking it out in my head. Both may be partly true…or neither.

Anyway, theory one – he’s a controlling bastard. As long as he has my stuff, he still has control of the situation (and of me) to some extent. Not to mention, and thank you Daphne for bringing this to my attention, as long as he has my stuff I will continue to contact him periodically to try to get it back. And he can use that as proof somehow that I’m “stalking” him or needy or not letting go or whatthehellever. He can pretend to be the poor, put upon martyr having to put up with this psycho woman who won’t leave him alone.

Theory two – he doesn’t really want me to walk out of his life, but he’s incapable of doing what is necessary to get me to stay voluntarily. He’s incapable of apologizing and changing his behavior. So this is all he has to keep me tied to him. God, that’s really pathetic. I’m the one who worked to keep us together, he never really made an effort (because he never had to). And now, at the end, he’s the one who won’t do what is necessary to let me walk away.

In either event, I’m not interested in playing. My gut tells me to just walk away…let go of the stuff, deal with my guilt over abandoning the dog, just never contact him again. But part of me doesn’t want to let him keep my things. He has some clothes of mine that I really like and can’t replace easily. And he has the cake carrier that my mom gave me and I really want that back. Not to mention if I don’t return the few things I have of his, I’m sure he’ll whine about that and use it to try to make me the bad guy.

I really don’t want to have to turn this into a confrontation, but that may end up being the only choice I can live with. I’ve done it before. I drove seven hours to Lubbock to get my stuff back from the evil ex. It was ugly. But I can’t help seeing a lot of parallels between the two situations. The longer this goes on, the more I see him behaving just like my ex…and there’s a reason he’s an ex. There’s a reason he’s one of the few exes I don’t speak to. I really did not need to be subjected to this behavior again.

Dear Thing 1,

You’re a selfish, self-centered bastard. I would hope you spend the rest of your life miserable, but I don’t have to. You’ll do it whether I hope for it or not. You like being miserable and you like pulling others down with you. You can do it without me. I quit.

Love,
Velma

The good news, I have a dinner date tonight.

Surprisingly enough, not a rant. It does happen from time to time.

I don’t have the slightest idea what to rant about today. Too much stuff bouncing around in my brain. Thing 1 had a “wonderful” time this weekend “hugging trees”…which I suppose is better than hearing him say he had a wonderful weekend fucking like a rabid weasel. But not by much. I just keep telling myself…he’ll fuck it up. He always does. I’m too tired of the whole thing to even rant about it at this point. Though I’m sure he’ll say or do something stupid soon and I’ll be furious all over again.

Anyway, this is not a rant. It’ll happen from time to time. You can spot the non-rants ‘cause they won’t have a “Dear So And So” in them.

I’m thinking about implementing some serious changes to a) my life, and b) my relationships with both boys. If Thing 1 can’t figure out a way to make our relationship more egalitarian, then we may not have a relationship at all any more. I need more control. I’m tired of feeling like our relationship is at his whim. If it doesn’t change, I may just have to walk away.

And as for Thing 2, well, he has to step up and start making an effort. When he is hurting, I’m always there. No matter what else is going on in my life. If he can’t find a way to do the same for me, then our relationship may end up dying of atrophy.

I can’t do it any more. I can’t be the one doing all the work. And I’m not willing to have less than I deserve any more. And what Thing 1 doesn’t understand is that I mean that in a much broader sense than just sex or being considered a primary partner or having him give me more of his heart or whatever it is he tells himself I’m all about. I mean it in a holistic sense. I’m not willing to be treated as less than I am. Full stop.

I guess I’m a little disappointed in myself because I have such a hard time implementing my feminist ideals in my private/sex life. I let men I sleep with/love get away with shit that I wouldn’t tolerate from anyone else. Stuff that if they were doing it to a woman I know, I would yell at her to leave them.

Don’t get me wrong, I don’t get involved with the hard-core woman haters. But you scratch pretty much any guy and you find all sorts of imbedded sexism. They don’t really respect women. They don’t treat us very well. They don’t treat us like equal partners. They don’t take our feelings into account.

One of the last things Thing 1 said to me that really touched me was that when we were having sex it was all about me for him. About getting me off. I believed it at the time. But looking back, not so much. There are a lot of things I asked him to do that he didn’t…that he wouldn’t do for me. Simple things – nothing complicated or degrading. Certainly not as out there as some things we actually did. Given the things I was willing to do to and for him, it makes him look pretty selfish. He is pretty selfish. And it isn’t just about sex. There are a lot of little things I’ve asked him to do and he says no just to say no most of the time. Even when it’s something he likes to do. If I ask, the answer is almost always no.

Or maybe it just never dawned on him that when I say I want something, I actually mean it. He has this real problem with believing the version of me he has in his head over the real me. Sometimes I think that’s a result of spending so many of the formative years of our relationship living 1200 miles apart. I wasn’t a real physical presence so of course I mostly lived in his head. He could imbue that version of me with whatever thoughts and opinions and desires he liked. Yes we talked a lot, online, on the phone, in person on the rare occasions when I could come and visit. But those visits weren’t the real world. We had to stuff everything into 4 or 5 days a year – you just don’t get a realistic idea of who a person is like that. I’m sure I’m guilty of this to some extent as well, though I’ve made a real effort to be open-minded and figure out who he is on a daily basis since I got here 2 years ago.

And maybe it’s just that way with men…they don’t see us as real human beings. The image is so much easier to deal with than the real person who has wants and needs and opinions that contradict his. Which leads back to the feminist interpretation – of course I’ve spent more time trying to figure out who he is, that’s what people in subordinate positions do. People with power don’t have to care what people beneath them think or feel.

It really does feel like starting over from the very beginning. There’s this guy and I have to decide if he’s worth it (multiply times 2). I have to decide if their behavior is such that I want to allow either of them into my life. Thing 1 has to prove to me that he’s really seeing the real me. That he’s listening to the real me. That he believes what I say and respects me and what I have to say. Thing 2 has to prove he’s someone who can actually be there emotionally for another person. That he has the ability to give. That he can listen instead of running over what I say.

I have to find a way to look at them both objectively and not through the eyes of someone who loves them. If they are causing me more pain and stress than can be counter-balanced by the joy they bring me…then I have to tell them that then and they either have to change that balance or I have to cut them loose. They’re both, in different ways, bringing me down. I fight so hard to not be depressed. I just can’t decide if I’d be more depressed with or without them.

I know, this rambles and makes no sense. I’m not apologizing.