Tag Archives: mean

2016 in Review: The Bad–and there was plenty

2 Jan

what a shit-show

Lots of bad stuff happened all year.  Cool’s mom died which caused a cascade of bad reactions and terrible events.  Cool’s bipolar was off the heezy, up and down and up and further up–making life complex and terrible.  My mom was diagnosed with breast cancer and had to undergo surgery and radiation.  My dad was diagnosed with early Parkinson’s Disease.  Those events aren’t in my countdown, because even though they sucked–they aren’t MY events to claim.  But they did negatively affect me.


Here’s how 2016 started:  I had to work on New Year’s Eve 2015.  Of course either everyone else either planned ahead and took the day off, or called out sick.  But I was still in my first 90 days, so I wasn’t yet eligible for any time off.  So it was me and my supervisor for half of it.  Till she coerced another co-worker to come in by reminding him that he wouldn’t get paid for the holiday if he didn’t show up to the shift immediately proceeding it.  This was typical stuff for my work history–I was used to Noh’s Ark 20s-something shenanigans.  While I was at work, Cool was getting her drink on.  Mind you, we had been abstinent for 2 whole years.  And we had not discussed adding alcohol back into our lives–she just grabbed it impulsively.  And drank it.  Even though she was home alone.  Long story short, by the time I rushed home from work for the countdown, Cool had already over-done it, was tired, then went to puke.  And she vomited, not down in the toilet, but from above–so it got everywhere!  It was the bad omen that started 2016.


The year went on like that–one thing after another.  I spent a lot of time writing my music blog.  I spent a ton of time editing pictures, writing descriptions, and putting in order–my good moments of 2016.  These moments sucked.  I’m tired of thinking about them-tired of dwelling on them.  I’ll quick-write these and be done.  I’m worn down from 2016, and hoping for a very tranquil 2017.





Bottom Moments:

9-I got a flu.  For the first time I can remember–aside from childhood sicknesses.  My fever lasted 5 days!  I was miserable.  I lost a week of unpacking and errands.

8-I got the impossible raise by negotiating.  This one hurts because it should have been such a GOOD moment.  But then my boss ruined my moment by being an ass.  He doesn’t like me and makes no bones about it.  He wished his favorite employees had earned the big raise instead, and resented the fact my pay is so high now.  He said, “You got lucky.”  Ummm, nice.  What a douche!  Also, Cool ruined my celebration by picking a fight–one of our biggest fights ever.  Not awesome.

7-The moving process, because it is always a headache.  We had to hire movers because the washer/dryer unit weighs 240 pounds.  Nothing is simple when you are moving from a basement to a third floor unit 35 minutes away.  Cool works days and I work nights so we had to work alone.  And then, I hated the stupid, non-functional layout of the new apartment, and not being able to unpack.  What a money-pit.

6-Our cute neighborhood with so much potential suddenly went downhill.  It went from quiet with tons of potential to ghetto and dangerous in about three weeks.  A homeless family made camp in our apartment’s parking lot.  People started walked by, peering into our living room window, casing the joint.  The police started showing up to various units routinely (see blog).  Starting to feel unsafe walking from my car to the apartment when I got home in the early morning hours felt awful.  Knowing the owner didn’t care about our safety and wellbeing, and wasn’t going to do anything to improve the situation was frustrating.  And learning that no one else could help us, because it was private property felt hopeless.

5-Cool got in a 6x roll-over accident and totaled her car.  But she lived.  It’s a miracle.  Except it happened 1 week before we moved!  The timing for it was the worst.  And I had to call out sick twice as a result of the crash, possible head injury, then her anxiety about it.  And now, I have to do all the shopping, all the errands, and take her to the pharmacy and anywhere else she needs to go.

4-working with effing lazy people every day.  Doing way more then my share of the work–every day.  Seeing my lazy co-workers be–lazy.  Resentment.  Getting held hostage by slowness of coworkers despite doing all the work.  Going home late in every scenario.  Being tired all the time.  Starting the next shift tired, and doing all the work (tired) again, in the hopes of leaving earlier and getting more sleep.  Failing at this night after night.  Really got me down.

3-Working with Catty.  I started dreading work every Monday.  I didn’t want to talk at work.  I didn’t want to stand up at any time, lest be judged by her.  I didn’t want to turn my head.  I felt self-conscious.  We had to trade recs and it was horrible.  She was a bitch and made me feel small and edgy.  She was my boss’ friend.  She had been there much longer and knew everyone.  She hated me.

2-Cool ambushed me.  And I found out she had gone “Mean Girls” against me for quite some time.  I broke up with her and kicked her out of the apartment.  Then, I had to work with the bitch (the afore-mentioned Catty) who initiated the whole thing–every Monday.  Sitting immediately sitting next to her, and having to trade requisitions to verify stressed me out!  Cool was ridiculous, and everything was tumultuous.  Suddenly, I felt very alone in Utah–in the world.  I was furious, and knew she was being THE WORST, yet my heart hurt.

1-window harassment (because the fear lasted longer then Cool’s ambush).  When someone started harassing us by knocking on our bedroom window several times, it was time to go.  I lay awake at night listening, anticipating with dread someone coming back, and breaking in.  I heard sounds, saw lights.  I had to plan what to do if someone got in when we weren’t home.  When we were sleeping.  While I was alone.  When Cool was home alone.  We had so much dread.  It was awful.  And in a horrible year of a lot of big, awful events–it was the worst.  By just a little bit.


Focus UP!

27 Oct

I didn’t even want to write about this, because doing so gives it my energy, gives the problem some legitamacy, and lends credance to the issue.  My plan:  Write it down, get it out, move on.  This doctor at work, now speaks to me with the $hittiest inflection.  Very hostile and condescending and critical.  Yesterday, she cut me off mid-sentence, in essence telling me to shut the fu(k up.  I was so taken aback that an adult–a professional, no less–would conduct herself in such a manner, that I did not stand up for myself. . .


And I know she is just holding a grudge because I was super-stressed to work on her days, and my schedule (after 3 years) was finally changed.  A compromise was establishlished–I still work a portion of that day, and with that doctor-it’s just less.  But she liked my work (not necessarily me or my personality) on that day and is treating me with overt hostility as punishment.

And I know this is HER problem.  It has very little to do with me and the best thing to do is ignore it, let it roll off my back, continue working hard (like always) during my new schedule–without guilt or stress.  And I tell myself that I have dealt with MUCH worse–scapegoating by Mary once I knew too many of her secrets and hello, I was a cheerleader.  I’ve had waaay more severe bitchiness directed at me before.  And no good will come from showing any sort of reaction–whether it be an assertive comment that the treatment is inappropriate and won’t be tolerated, a phony “joke” alerting her that I realize this intentional behavior is going on and I don’t like it, or some sort of dirct confrontation *shudder*

But it’s hard.  The unfairness stays in the back of my mind.  I know I need to be the bigger person and ignore it.  I also know I could employ some sort of uncharacteristic obvious vulnerability so she can SEE I have feelings.  Cool says I come off “tough”–for lack of better word.  I seem resilaiant so people assume I can handle any amount of their BS and be fine.  I may have a hard exterior, but I’m quite soft and sensitive inside.  I practiced pouting yesterday, and it was very unnatural and humerous, indeed.  I could also be totally phony and upbeat despite the negativity from her, and make my life easier for myself.

deer 3

The main things to remember:

-it’s her deal–I don’t want to play into this or be THAT person.

-this doesn’t matter to my big goals

-I do not frequently see her

-I am out of HERE in 1.5 years tops.  Hopefully, a little sooner.

-thinking about this at all pulls my mind from what’s important–this week:  Hard test, house-sitting, “easier” class’ most difficult unit exam.  Winterizing.

That’s all the attention I’m giving this problem.  That’s all the energy she will take from me.

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Tight–but not in a good way.

19 Oct

Horrible, horrible, embarrassing moment of today:

After work, I walked to the coffee shop across the street to study while Cool interneted.  I drank coffee and studied, not paying attention to anyone else inside the place.  After an hour and a half, Cool and I were good and caffeinated and sort of chatting–as we do–still not paying attention to other people.

Cool brought up Northface and I said how I would like to buy one of everything in the store when I’m all rich.  Then, because I have a vandeta against black yoga pants–and spendex in general, I clarified my initial statement and said, “Except black yoga pants.”

black yoga pants 2

I’m not sure why black yoga pants are such a hot trend, and I constantly see gals of all shapes, sizes, and ages wearing them whereever they are.  I posted pics on here of relatively thin people wearing them–that are made to look fat/bulgy in places–just to illustrate that no one looks good.  Believe me, there were a lot of terrible pics of less fit people too–but you can imagine.

You either have a VPL (visible panty line) or let me ask this–you can’t wear underwear, right?  Because even thong lines would show.  And I see some people wearing black yoga pants EVERY day.  Please tell me they have multiple pairs and are not wearing the same pants, sans underwear, day in and day black yoga pants 3out.  *shudder*  And they are not breathable (another problem for hygiene) and don’t TELL me something that tight is comfortable. . .  Anyway, it’s an awful, unflattering look.  And of course when we got on the topic inside the coffee shop I said so.  And out of the corner of my eye, I saw an employee come and begin emptying the trash (which was immediately next to our table).  But still, I didn’t look at them at all–I couldn’t have told you if they were male or female–let alone what they were wearing.

Do you see where this is headed?  So I’m going on and on to Cool about how the ONLY people that look good in unflattering spandex are super-models and ballerinas, before walking across the room to hand in our dirty plate.  Once I was all the way across the room, headed back to our seat I noticed that the employee emptying the trash. . .  Was a chubby gal–wearing blue spandex pants.

I felt awful!  She was red-in-the-face.  I was mortified, because our comments must have seemed so pointed to her–because we didn’t shut up even when she came in proximity.  So I’m sure the poor girl thought that not only we were talking about her, but we didn’t stop because we wanted her to hear.  Not how either of us roll, but the yoga pants 1damage was done.

I just wanted to leave immediately, tail between my legs, but Cool’s laptop took forever to shut down and we had to stand there, while the gal had to come baaaack to our area with a trash bag.  It was horrible, mean, and awkward, and I need to learn to shut my fat mouth–in public.

So I hope that gal doesn’t go home and cry herself to sleep on our account.  We hadn’t even seen her, and didn’t intentionally target her or anything.  And I don’t want to make anyone (especially women who already have so much beauty-industry pressure placed upon them) feel bad about themself.  It was really $hitty. . .

But I do still stand by my loathing of spandex.  In the niceest way–ladies, spandex doesn’t look good on anyone.  Your weight and shape don’t really factor into the equation–so unless you are a Victoria’s Secret Angel (average Victoria's Secret Angels Visit SoulCycleage = 21 years; average height = 5’10”; average weight = 110 lb; putting their BMI at an appallingly under-weight 15.8–women that tall should weigh a mininmum of 130 lb) you shouldn’t wear them.  I myself am petite (which made today’s incident seem even worse) but I would look icky and chubby in spandex pants.  They would make my thieghs look huge!  The pants aren’t designed for real women.

Coffee shop employee, I apologize if I hurt your feelings–it was not intentional, and I will keep my dumb mouth shut in public about such matters–you didn’t look any worse than anyone else who wears those.  But again–people, just don’t wear those things–they are ugly and make everyone look fat/unfit/odd-shaped.


I Must Have Missed that in the Job Description

10 Sep

I am technically a veterinary assistant.  Since I haven’t bothered to pay for an LVT license because much of what I do was taught on the job.  I feel my eleven years of experience make up a large enough background of knowledge and technical skill–I don’t need an additional piece of paper.  Even more so since I have a B.S. in Animal Science (pre-vet emphasis) and minor in Chemistry, which SHOULD mean more than a two year technical license.

Anyway, at my job, there is a leak in the basement.  It’s been intermittant for 2-3 months now.  Sometimes the floor is dry for weeks, other times a large puddle reappears for days in a row.  No pattern.  We can’t figure out where it’s coming from.  We do know it’s worse every time we change the x-ray processor chemicals.  The developer room is dry though.

Last Saturday, I noticed a puddle had formed and I told my boss/vet/owner.  She mopped it up while I took vitals on her appointment.  This Friday, I walked in–and the puddle was gigantic.  It filled the room and the water was black.  Since the puddle was bigger than ever before I dragged the receptionist, tech, and the other vet (partial owner) downstairs to see for themselves.  Everyone knew there was a puddle in the basement.  Later, I took a sample of the black water and took it up to show everyone.  It looked curiously like the dirty developer water that our tech had dumped down the sink the day before.

kind of like this, but inside

So too late, we realized it wasn’t the processor itself leaking, it was the sink where we cleaned the processor, and washed dishes throughout the day, and bathed cats–pretty much used constantly.  The leak-water sample sat on the counter as a reminder of the problem for the rest of Friday.

After lunch I had a small break from my tech-ing responsibilities so I figured I would be nice and clean some of the water downstairs.  When I told the tech and receptionist what I was doing and to call into the basement if they needed me they asked if I should clean it.  They suggested the plumber might mess it up more the next day or even have some sort of pump to more efficiently clean the mess.  I said I could at least get started in the clean-up and trudged down with plastic bags over my shoes.  I bailed dirty developer leak-water for about an hour.  It filled one of those yellow mop buckets as well as a regular bucket.  [By my estimations 7-8 gallons!] Still, there was a substantial puddle in the middle of the floor.  I had to stop bailing to help upstairs and being a busy Friday (with slow doctor) I never made it back down to finish.

At the end of the day I helped clean the floors (which have been an issue as of late) and left with my two co-workers about 20 minutes after we were scheduled to leave.  I figured the plumber would be used to sitting water, and probably had a hose and pump to get the water off the floor faster.

Cut to Saturday.  I told the above story to my third co-worker and she said she knew–she had seen the huge puddle on Thursday.  During Saturday, I’m the only one in back with the vets so I’m generally pretty busy.  I guess the plumber complained he couldn’t get around in the basement because of the standing water.  I had just checked in a double appointment and the doctor/part owner began to chastise ME:

She asked why I hadn’t cleaned the basement floor yesterday.  She was unsatisfied with the fact I had bailed a lot of water by myself yesterday.  She was unmoved by the fact I said I was needed upstairs Friday afternoon.  She said “You should have stayed late to finish cleaning the basement instead of cleaning upstairs last night.”

So I (alone) am supposedly responsible for bailing water off the floor when 1) I don’t own the building 2) I am not in charge of anything at work 3) I did not cause the huge leak by changing the processor chemistry 4) I am not a plumber/janitor/maid/servant/slave 5) I am not the only employee 6) the leak didn’t even first occur on a day I was scheduled to work 7) I make the least amount of money in the entire building 8] I was not the only person who knew about it??!  I’m not certain why my co-workers and employers seem to think I am the little peon that should do all of the cleaning around that place.  I really don’t like it though.

I don’t mind helping out with things outside my job description WHEN I have finished my regular job duties and have a little spare time.  IF people are appreciative that I did, and don’t take it for granted or come to expect it.  And I certainly don’t think it’s one of my job requirements to be the only one to stay late on a Friday evening and bail water off the basement floor.  The story ends with me staying later than my shift on Saturday, bailing the other 7 gallons of water off the basement floor-by myself, and with not a thank you.

P.S.:  What kind of pussy plumber does not have boots?  And does not have means to drain standing water?  I say, get your fucking rubber boots on, you lazy mo-fo and pump that water off the floor as part of your job!

Not Exempt

10 Aug

JUST because I’m naturally petite, does not mean I’m exempt from weight loss culture. Women who want to lose weight are all around me, all the time. And there is pressure on me to remain thin.  There is always the fear of losing my awesome metabolism, and taking part in an obsession about food.

And there is jealousy towards me from those who aren’t as thin and those who may be as thin, but have to work much harder at it.  Don’t hate, people–it’s just my body.  I’m naturally this way, and I don’t need you talking behind my back that I MUST have disordered eating because I look this way.  The judgement goes both ways–every way if you’re female.  My food is observed constantly–just like any other girl’s is.  Except since I’m petite, people will openly criticize my choices and tell me I eat like crap to my face.  They tell me how lucky I am.

Then, there are the other skinny women who are super-competitive and feel it’s some sort of contest.  They will say “It’s SO annoying to clothes shop–they never have the size triple negative 0 that I need!”  Or they will pout that they have SUCH small feet.  It’s like they’re bragging, just covertly.  They make me feel JUST as bad as they make any larger person feel.

Bottom line–women have to suffer through harsh judgments and strict rules, because society values the physical aspects of a woman most.  Small people are no less immune to “The Beauty Myth” than “fat” people.  Read the afore-mentioned book.  You’ll see.

Mean Spirited? Maybe. [posted 1-22-08; edited 1-14-10]

17 Jan

It’s all in fun!  Here’s a list of nicknames I’ve conjured up:

Hannah, Can’t Hit the Pit (a reference to pole vaulting)

My Asian Roommate

Crazy Mary


Douche-bag Dana (I went through a douche-phase, ok?)

Saucy Sarah

Crack-Head Henry

Alke Upstairs

Dirty Sanchez

Myspace Alicia


Bossy Jocie

Eye-candy Monday


“nice” Justin

Fake Bitch


Suz, but only in my head.

The Hairdresser

My Boss (Mad-Dog Mary)
The M’s
The Ghetto Brothers

There are certainly more–maybe I’ll include them later!