A is for Assholes
Is it wrong of me to get such a charge out of setting off that douchebag's car alarm in the parking garage every morning when I roll up in my hoopty?
The longer I work downtown, the more contempt I have for each and every one of the corporate sucks that populate this particular segment of the city. Oooooh, Mr. Businessman, you're so fucking important in your Armani suit, can I blow you while we ride in the elevator together? No, please, let me get my piece of shit Honda out of your way so that you can back your Benz into that parking space (actually, those two parking spaces because you're just that fucking special). What's worse? The fat suburban would-be housewives--would be if they didn't work for these fuckers. The fat women who tape "Cathy" cartoons to their monitors and actually suck up to and in some cases respect these self-important pricks. Cutting me off in their minivans and ridiculously oversized SUVs, heading me off in the lunch line where they order 6 cheeseburgers, extra mayo, and a diet soda. Cows.
I'm an asshole this morning.
I feel like I was an asshole all weekend. I finally picked up El Nino Friday afternoon, having only seen him once all week--for about an hour on Wednesday night at his prick father's house, and that was less a visit with my son than a foray into "Look At What a Great Dad I Am" world. I couldn't wait to see him. He was equally happy to see me. And equally happy to see Ben. And equally happy to see his new bike we picked up for him. It was a great evening--he was happy, he was well-mannered, he was well-behaved. I should have known it wouldn't possibly last. Saturday morning, he let us sleep in. He let us take him to the city market and to the grocery store. And he was well-behaved for the most part--though the incessant jabbering was starting to wear on me by lunch time. After lunch we went to the park, and he was fine for a while, but then shoved a toddler out of his way--oh, man, that just makes me livid. I do NOT want to raise a bully. And considering his father is a bully, I feel like I've got my work totally cut out for me. I also don't enjoy asshole junior league parents climbing on my ass because my mean little brat of a kid pushed or kicked or bit or hit their precious little angel. So I told him he was banished from the little kid area of the park. He burst into tears. I told him he had no right to push the smaller kid. I gave him a couple of pushes myself to demonstrate--"do you like being pushed?"--which other parents observing intently found sufficiently horrifying. Ben wasn't too happy about it, either, but how else am I to get the point across that physical aggression isn't going to fly? I've heard of parents who stopped their kids from biting by biting them back--at least I never felt a need to resort to chewing on my offspring. Yesterday was the Day of the Brat. It wasn't so much what he was doing, it was more the general snotty and rude attitude that made me crazy. Everything I said to him was met with an argument. I could have said "We're going to Disneyworld" and he would have responded with "No we're NOT, mommy." We took him to Ben's parents' house to swim, mainly because we knew his parents would shower him with attention and we'd be, for a few moments, free.
I hate feeling like that. I hate the feeling that I can't effectively discipline my child AND enjoy him because my time with him is limited. I feel like I spend the first 3 days with him deprogramming him from his time with daddy, and then it's practically time to hand him back again. I HATE this.
But I don't really have a choice, do I?
Ben found my blog last night and seemed slightly pissed that I would say things on the internet that I wouldn't say to him. I tried to explain that I use this forum to release the meaner and more neurotic things that run through my head, and that pretty much everything that's said here, I say to him during the course of a day--because that's the truth. I don't hide anything from him, save some of my more petty complaints and neurotic concerns. And I keep those from him because I know they're inconsequential, unless I go running off at the mouth about them, at which point they become consequential, and there's just no need for that. At any rate, I offered to remove it and he told me that wasn't necessary. I don't plan to start censoring my posts or anything, because honestly, I have nothing to hide (of course, if he continues to read, he may figure out what a fruitbasket I am and run for the hills--naaaaaah). I don't really care if he does, considering I tell him pretty much everything anyway. This could turn into a nice long diatribe re: intellectual property and cyberspace privacy laws (or lack thereof), but I'm not going there. The good thing was that he felt like he could tell me about it and tell me how he felt about what I had to say.
I called my sister last night, considering I hadn't heard from anyone all week regarding Grandma's condition. She said she really didn't know anything because she's "staying away from all that." Come again? "I just can't handle Mom." Ah, point taken. Apparently my mother has been in rare form. My dad is now out of town on a fishing trip. My uncle (mom's brother) is out of town helping his son sheetrock his house. My aunt (mom's sister) and her husband and absurdly spoiled teenaged daughter are out of town on vacation. Leaving my mom and my uncle's wife to both keep Grandma company and babysit Grandpa.
What the fuck????
My cousin (aunt's son) and his wife have been helping out somewhat--as they should, given my grandparents practically raised him until my aunt remarried when my cousin was 6 or 7. But my mom has apparently been trying to browbeat anyone she can into helping out--I guess she ripped my other (pregnant) sister a new one for not wanting to hang out with Grandpa. No word as to whether or not my brother (her darling) has received a similar ass-chewing or not. (I'm guessing not.) What seriously pisses me off is that I told my mother last Sunday to "call me in the morning and let me know where you want me to go and when." And my phone never rang. Not all last week.
Fuck 'em.
I told my sister, "fine--when it's mom's turn, call me when she's dead. No, wait--do what she'd do--call me 3 days after the funeral."
I don't understand these people. If they're so put out, why not hire a home health nurse at the very least? Why are they putting off the inevitable? My Grandma will not be able to take care of Grandpa when she finally goes home from the hospital. Hell, she'll need someone to take care of her. It doesn't make any sense.
But that's my family. They love to be around you as long as you don't show any signs of possibly being a burden on them.
No wonder I've felt like I've been alone my entire life. Essentially, I have been.
Yet another reason I'm so grateful to have found Ben. He and El Nino are my entire life.
I still hate my fucking job. I hate having to fucking be here. I hate my bosshole and his stupid smug smarmy ass asking me the same stupid fucking questions day after day after day. I think I'm going to start really looking for another job after the first of the month, after everything's moved and things start settling down. "When things start settling down." Ha. How often do I say that? How often have things actually started settling down?
Guess I'll go see what the working mommy bitches are up to...
3:26 pm
The working mommies have been engrossed in conversation about flooring for the better part of the day. I guess that's the least controversial thing they could come up with to discuss and therefore not offend anyone. Fuck me.
I've sent out 5 resumes this afternoon. One is for a more writing-intensive marketing type job that I likely won't even be considered for due to my succinct lack of marketing background. Nevermind I wrote the brochure and website for this firm--because both pieces suck royally (I was given no creative license whatsoever). I guess sticking to legal is probably best, considering I know the business like the back of my hand. I'm hoping one or more turns something up and soon. Word on the street is that one of the partners here has fucked something up royally--I don't know specifics, but the grapevine indicates morale is going to get a helluva lot worse before it gets better. Shit, I thought it was already at an all-time low. Definitely time to be the rat deserting the sinking ship.
My sister emailed me that Grandma's not doing well. She may or may not have pneumonia, and the idiots in charge have decided to perform a "routine" angioplasty to open up some arterial blockage. I'm sorry--there's nothing routine about an invasive procedure on an 87 year old woman who's trying to recover from partial hip replacement. What is this, "drain her Medicare account quick before she croaks" or something? Given this new turn of events, I know I should make an effort to get back up there, but the truth is, I just don't want to deal with all of them. I guess I am a member of my family, after all. Ignore it and it will go away.
Speaking of...no word from my douchebag ex. This is always good news. I checked his email earlier, and apparently, he bought a $30 phone on ebay. Glad I could contribute half that cost. Asshole.
I need to find a way to snap out of this shitty mood I'm in within the next hour. Oh, wait--I'll be leaving in an hour, so that should do it...
Peace out, yo.
The longer I work downtown, the more contempt I have for each and every one of the corporate sucks that populate this particular segment of the city. Oooooh, Mr. Businessman, you're so fucking important in your Armani suit, can I blow you while we ride in the elevator together? No, please, let me get my piece of shit Honda out of your way so that you can back your Benz into that parking space (actually, those two parking spaces because you're just that fucking special). What's worse? The fat suburban would-be housewives--would be if they didn't work for these fuckers. The fat women who tape "Cathy" cartoons to their monitors and actually suck up to and in some cases respect these self-important pricks. Cutting me off in their minivans and ridiculously oversized SUVs, heading me off in the lunch line where they order 6 cheeseburgers, extra mayo, and a diet soda. Cows.
I'm an asshole this morning.
I feel like I was an asshole all weekend. I finally picked up El Nino Friday afternoon, having only seen him once all week--for about an hour on Wednesday night at his prick father's house, and that was less a visit with my son than a foray into "Look At What a Great Dad I Am" world. I couldn't wait to see him. He was equally happy to see me. And equally happy to see Ben. And equally happy to see his new bike we picked up for him. It was a great evening--he was happy, he was well-mannered, he was well-behaved. I should have known it wouldn't possibly last. Saturday morning, he let us sleep in. He let us take him to the city market and to the grocery store. And he was well-behaved for the most part--though the incessant jabbering was starting to wear on me by lunch time. After lunch we went to the park, and he was fine for a while, but then shoved a toddler out of his way--oh, man, that just makes me livid. I do NOT want to raise a bully. And considering his father is a bully, I feel like I've got my work totally cut out for me. I also don't enjoy asshole junior league parents climbing on my ass because my mean little brat of a kid pushed or kicked or bit or hit their precious little angel. So I told him he was banished from the little kid area of the park. He burst into tears. I told him he had no right to push the smaller kid. I gave him a couple of pushes myself to demonstrate--"do you like being pushed?"--which other parents observing intently found sufficiently horrifying. Ben wasn't too happy about it, either, but how else am I to get the point across that physical aggression isn't going to fly? I've heard of parents who stopped their kids from biting by biting them back--at least I never felt a need to resort to chewing on my offspring. Yesterday was the Day of the Brat. It wasn't so much what he was doing, it was more the general snotty and rude attitude that made me crazy. Everything I said to him was met with an argument. I could have said "We're going to Disneyworld" and he would have responded with "No we're NOT, mommy." We took him to Ben's parents' house to swim, mainly because we knew his parents would shower him with attention and we'd be, for a few moments, free.
I hate feeling like that. I hate the feeling that I can't effectively discipline my child AND enjoy him because my time with him is limited. I feel like I spend the first 3 days with him deprogramming him from his time with daddy, and then it's practically time to hand him back again. I HATE this.
But I don't really have a choice, do I?
Ben found my blog last night and seemed slightly pissed that I would say things on the internet that I wouldn't say to him. I tried to explain that I use this forum to release the meaner and more neurotic things that run through my head, and that pretty much everything that's said here, I say to him during the course of a day--because that's the truth. I don't hide anything from him, save some of my more petty complaints and neurotic concerns. And I keep those from him because I know they're inconsequential, unless I go running off at the mouth about them, at which point they become consequential, and there's just no need for that. At any rate, I offered to remove it and he told me that wasn't necessary. I don't plan to start censoring my posts or anything, because honestly, I have nothing to hide (of course, if he continues to read, he may figure out what a fruitbasket I am and run for the hills--naaaaaah). I don't really care if he does, considering I tell him pretty much everything anyway. This could turn into a nice long diatribe re: intellectual property and cyberspace privacy laws (or lack thereof), but I'm not going there. The good thing was that he felt like he could tell me about it and tell me how he felt about what I had to say.
I called my sister last night, considering I hadn't heard from anyone all week regarding Grandma's condition. She said she really didn't know anything because she's "staying away from all that." Come again? "I just can't handle Mom." Ah, point taken. Apparently my mother has been in rare form. My dad is now out of town on a fishing trip. My uncle (mom's brother) is out of town helping his son sheetrock his house. My aunt (mom's sister) and her husband and absurdly spoiled teenaged daughter are out of town on vacation. Leaving my mom and my uncle's wife to both keep Grandma company and babysit Grandpa.
What the fuck????
My cousin (aunt's son) and his wife have been helping out somewhat--as they should, given my grandparents practically raised him until my aunt remarried when my cousin was 6 or 7. But my mom has apparently been trying to browbeat anyone she can into helping out--I guess she ripped my other (pregnant) sister a new one for not wanting to hang out with Grandpa. No word as to whether or not my brother (her darling) has received a similar ass-chewing or not. (I'm guessing not.) What seriously pisses me off is that I told my mother last Sunday to "call me in the morning and let me know where you want me to go and when." And my phone never rang. Not all last week.
Fuck 'em.
I told my sister, "fine--when it's mom's turn, call me when she's dead. No, wait--do what she'd do--call me 3 days after the funeral."
I don't understand these people. If they're so put out, why not hire a home health nurse at the very least? Why are they putting off the inevitable? My Grandma will not be able to take care of Grandpa when she finally goes home from the hospital. Hell, she'll need someone to take care of her. It doesn't make any sense.
But that's my family. They love to be around you as long as you don't show any signs of possibly being a burden on them.
No wonder I've felt like I've been alone my entire life. Essentially, I have been.
Yet another reason I'm so grateful to have found Ben. He and El Nino are my entire life.
I still hate my fucking job. I hate having to fucking be here. I hate my bosshole and his stupid smug smarmy ass asking me the same stupid fucking questions day after day after day. I think I'm going to start really looking for another job after the first of the month, after everything's moved and things start settling down. "When things start settling down." Ha. How often do I say that? How often have things actually started settling down?
Guess I'll go see what the working mommy bitches are up to...
3:26 pm
The working mommies have been engrossed in conversation about flooring for the better part of the day. I guess that's the least controversial thing they could come up with to discuss and therefore not offend anyone. Fuck me.
I've sent out 5 resumes this afternoon. One is for a more writing-intensive marketing type job that I likely won't even be considered for due to my succinct lack of marketing background. Nevermind I wrote the brochure and website for this firm--because both pieces suck royally (I was given no creative license whatsoever). I guess sticking to legal is probably best, considering I know the business like the back of my hand. I'm hoping one or more turns something up and soon. Word on the street is that one of the partners here has fucked something up royally--I don't know specifics, but the grapevine indicates morale is going to get a helluva lot worse before it gets better. Shit, I thought it was already at an all-time low. Definitely time to be the rat deserting the sinking ship.
My sister emailed me that Grandma's not doing well. She may or may not have pneumonia, and the idiots in charge have decided to perform a "routine" angioplasty to open up some arterial blockage. I'm sorry--there's nothing routine about an invasive procedure on an 87 year old woman who's trying to recover from partial hip replacement. What is this, "drain her Medicare account quick before she croaks" or something? Given this new turn of events, I know I should make an effort to get back up there, but the truth is, I just don't want to deal with all of them. I guess I am a member of my family, after all. Ignore it and it will go away.
Speaking of...no word from my douchebag ex. This is always good news. I checked his email earlier, and apparently, he bought a $30 phone on ebay. Glad I could contribute half that cost. Asshole.
I need to find a way to snap out of this shitty mood I'm in within the next hour. Oh, wait--I'll be leaving in an hour, so that should do it...
Peace out, yo.
posted by Mitzi Green at 3:37 PM
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