Random Nonsense

LOL I typo’d the title and it said “long tim”. I miss muh Timmeh. ♥ That reminds me, I should check myspace and see if I still have buttons. *makes note to do that when I’m done here*

Oh, in case you haven’t noticed this is a random blog. I’m caffeinated to the point that picking one topic is next to impossible.

Oh! Hey! Guys! (*hears “Hey, you guys!” from The Goonies in her head*) Guess what?!?! Fer’s floating! ^_^ His name is Josh, he’s a total goober, but he’s MY goober. He is the sweetest, funniest guy I have EVER met, and he’s adorable to boot. Yay for me! You wouldn’t believe how much he spoils me or how deliriously happy he makes me. No matter what went wrong with my day, within 5 minutes of talking with him I’m calm, and happy, and off in a strange little world with him. ♥

Speaking of things going wrong with my day. Ugh. So, job hunting is a pain in the ass! I tried temp agencies and they don’t want me because I lack recent employment. They say they want to speak to a supervisor from within the past 3-6 months to find out what kind of worker I am these days, not 9 years ago, and I don’t have one. And with so many people being laid off recently, any and all jobs are going to be given to them because they have recent/current references. FFS, even McDonald’s hasn’t called back about the app I turned in. I am at rock bottom as far as “desirable employee” goes.

Then there’s my mother. >.< She brings the classifieds into me every single day and I read them every single day. Also, every single day I tell her "I don't have the education/experience 90% of these people want. The only one I'm qualified for? I already applied for." Yet she hints day after day that I should go out and about job hunting. "Ok. Sure. You going to put the gas in my truck for me to drive to places that aren't even hiring in the hopes there's a 0.01% chance someone quits while I'm there and I get a job to start putting gas in my truck again?" She thinks when I'm here, in my room, on the internet I'm just fucking around all day. She doesn't get that I’m applying online, job searching online, and formulating my evil plan to take over the world so I don’t need to work. … I heard that. That last bit is NOT “fucking around”. Jerk.

Then there’s the fact she makes me not want to leave the house… Every time I do, when I come home, she’s either made my bed, done my laundry, or “straightened up” my room. Srsly? GTFO muh room! I’m 28 for crying out loud and that’s a large part of why I came here, to get some gawdamm privacy. Privacy that includes a gawdamm knock before my door is opened. Oh, and another reason I came here was to stop being told what to do. Yes, it’s her house, but I honestly don’t see who or what I’m harming by being on my phone during my free nighttime minutes (ok. ok. that one night she bitched at me I was laughing awful loud, but I’ve been quiet every night since and she’s still coming into my room and telling me “it’s time to say good night”. Good night? I JUST called 2 hours ago, I just woke up 4 hours ago). I also don’t see why I need to be woke up and told “it’s 8″ then again 2 hours later to be told “it’s 10″. Good for it, let me sleep.

Which brings us to Bill. On the occasions they fight and she throws him out she leaves me alone. When he’s not here, her and I are cool and able to coexist peacefully. Which leads me to believe she’s on my ass because he’s on hers about me. The fights I’ve had to listen to and clean up after between the two of them convince me if I weren’t here, he would just find something else to be on her ass about. It’s simply convenient for him to go with the “your kid is here mooching and we barely make it by as is” argument when he needs something to bitch about.

When I first got here I thought he was an ass and drinking 24/7 because of stress from having JUST been laid off. But the longer I’m here, the more I get the feeling “they’ve had this fight before” or “this isn’t the first time he’s spent the night in his van, in the driveway, drinking vodka, calling mom’s cell phone every five minutes, and banging on the door every ten.” He’s a big guy and a mean drunk, mom’s a little gal and handicapped to boot. Most of you know about me, so most of you can make a guess of where my mind goes when I hear their voices get louder… Every single time they start in, no mater how badly I want to take a right and go throw up when I leave my room, I take a left and go watch for sudden movements. :/

My, fer. What a negative note to leave this blog on. Think you could wrap it up with anything more depressing? *thinks…. kicks a puppy on the way over to myspace*

♥ y’all