I AM nice. Dammit.

I love people. I like watching people move, interact, and just be. I am always curious about other peoples’ lives and behaviors. I can sit and people watch all day. Which is why I was so enthused to find that there is a whole other world where people are pouring their lives and thoughts out online.

I only stumbled onto the world of online journals just about a year ago. In that time, I have read about a bazillion of them, searching for the gem in a pile of crap. I have found a few that are really good, and always entertaining. But I have also found a lot that just suck ass. What if mine sucks ass too? Ah, who gives a fuck.

Anywho, I am always looking for a good one, so if you have a journal or can recommend a good one, hook a sister up.

My conscience battles with me daily over my relationship with one of my co-workers. I’ll call her Celestia. I chose this as her name because when Anne Heche went loopy-ass crazy in Fresno and started speaking in tongues, she said she was an alien named Celestia. So my co-worker, like her namesake, is crazy. C-R-A-Zmotherfucking-Y. She has been since I first met her. But, back then, we didn’t recognize it because we were friends, and were always drunk when we saw her because we were young and partied 24 hours a day. But, as time went on, and the crazy episodes started happening more and more, we saw that she was a lunatic, and bumped her out of our group.

The one good thing she did do, however, was hook me up with my job. I knew going in that I was going to have to deal with her everyday, but I had no idea to what extent. I have been here just over four years, and since the beginning, at least once a day she pops off with some insane shit that makes me want to strangle her. And she cries. A lot. Normally, I ignore her, or tell her to stay out of my business.

As much as she infuriates me with her lack of professionalism, her immaturity, her gossip, and all around bullshit, her mother is at the end of a horrible battle with breast cancer that has pretty much spread to her whole body. So, not being a complete prick, I am just letting all this nuttiness roll off of my back. Even though she was just as bad before her mom got sick, I figure if I was going through the horrendous pain of having to watch my Mother die, I wouldn’t want someone to tell me what an asshole I am. I almost feel guilty writing about how much I dislike her, but I have to say it somewhere.

I’m really a nice person.

Sometimes.