Frustration

I am frustrated today. I am not sure how much humor or sarcasm or “how I made an ass of myself today” will be in this entry.

I just found out that yet ANOTHER of my uneducated, barely employed, white trash cousins managed to get herself pregnant. I truly don’t know what it is about ignorance and lower middle class living that makes out of wedlock childbirth so desirable, but it’s a fucking epidemic. Of all of my cousins on this side of my family to have kids, only one of them was married, owned a home and two new cars, and had medical insurance, not to mention the financial means and stability to take care of a child.

I am not one of those lunatics that think you must be married to have a kid. I think if you’re single, and really want to have one (thank god I am not cursed with maternal urges or any biological clocks), if you’re prepared to take responsibility and support the kid, do it. Don’t get pregnant because you were too stupid and horny to put a fucking condom on. It’s not that difficult, people. My brain completely turns to mush when I am about to get laid, but I have the presence of mind to stick a condom on my partner.

It pisses me off. Since neither one of those two fucks have insurance, my (and yours) tax dollars that I work all day to pay will be paying for that kid.

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I have also been tremendously sexually frustrated. With Jason out of the picture, I am not getting any with any frequency anymore, and man is it driving me nuts. I am like a teenage boy with sex. I think about it every 20 seconds. I won’t even tell you how many sexed up dreams I have been having.

I need a man.

I have also been going through some weird girly-type feelings that I am not completely familiar with. In the past, I have been perfectly fine to date and have fun, but not be in anything serious. I didn’t want anything heavy, or be tied down to any one person.

I don’t know what the hell has happened to me lately, but all I can think about is how jealous I am of people who are in relationships (ok, even I am gagging at myself reading this). But I can’t help it. I don’t know what’s wrong with me. I think my hormones are just completely out of whack. This lack of sex is fucking with me.

Help me.

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Oh! I do have some humor to interject today.

Ok. So one of the computer guys in our office, who I’ll call Diva, (because he’s cranky, gay, and completely full of himself) went to Celestia’s desk and starts bitching about how the heels of her shoes are making such noise on the tiles on the floor by his office that he can’t work, and it’s ringing in his “fucking ears” and giving him a “blinding fucking headache.”

God knows, I NEVER want to take sides with Celestia on ANYTHING, but this was so stupid, and so childish, that I could not believe he was complaining about her WALKING.I should also point out that a few months ago, he and Celestia used to bitch incessantly about another co-worker, Princess, and her carrot-eating habit. Me and Margie jokingly called Celestia and Diva “the heathers.” They are always gossiping and talking crap about everyone else, like they are somehow above us. So when he went after her, it was surprising (and fantastic entertainment, I might add).

After he went off for a couple of minutes, one of our bosses comes up behind him, and Celestia tells HR Boss that Diva approached her, and was having a hard time dealing with the sounds of her shoes. HR Boss says she is sorry he is having such a hard time, but there is nothing that can be done, and he should close his door if the sounds of people walking by were really bothering him that much. Then Diva flips out and starts yelling AT HIS BOSS that there is a crack under the door, and it sounds just as bad. He had a total fit, and stomped off into his office.
For the rest of the day, every woman in the office walked around the other way, so as not to disturb the queen.

Had I been wearing high heeled shoes, I would have stomped my happy ass up and down that hall in front of his office as many times as I could.

When Diva threw on his fannypack (he’s gay, yet so unfashionable) and went to lunch, Celestia came up to my desk, and guess what she did – SHE STARTED CRYING. Shocking, I know. “How come [Diva] was yelling at me? Why am I getting yelled at because I want to look pretty at work?” Jesus fucking Christ.

So I said, “It must be so hard to be so pretty and have everyone else be so jealous of you all the time.” Sometimes, I am never sure if she is going to catch on to my sarcasm or not, but I keep doing it. Messing with stupid people is fun.

“It is hard! No one realizes how hard it is. I mean, I don’t act like I am prettier than everyone else (*editor’s note: FUCKING LIE). It’s not my fault I look this way. I just don’t understand how people can act this way to me.” At this point, I was nodding sympathetically, and offering her a tissue. I wanted to go on with this conversation more, but I figured I would be making her giant ego even bigger, and god knows, I don’t want that.

But I did throw in one last little comment. “You know, girls are jealous because you’re a hottie. A tosser (*editor’s note: a tosser is Irish slang for a chronic masturbator (at least the way we used it, it was. Spending all my time in an Irish bar, I have a whole vocabulary of words that no one in my office understands. I have lots of fun with this).”

“A tosser? What’s that?”

“It’s a girl who is really hot. Haven’t you heard that song on the new Usher record? I can’t remember the name of it, but the words are something like ‘she’s got the body that can’t go wrong, she’s a tosser, she makes my body sweat and I just can’t think, I am at a loss for my tosser.’”

I made that shit up on the spot. Cheesy, and bad, yes. Highly effective, yes. She bounced off back to her desk all happy that she was a tosser. I hope I am around when she calls herself that in front of someone else.

It takes so very little to please me.

And, finally, a Tattoo Face update. I came home from work last night, and he was standing in the yard, smoking. He saw me, said hi, told me his name, and said he's "really into thick chicks."

Uh.

So I was just like "Oh, that's cool. Gotta go. See ya later!" And I got the fuck out of there.
I prefer my men to not be fresh out of the big house, thank you very much.

Now I am really creeped out by this guy.