I can be nice. Sometimes.

I am not drinking anymore.

I know I say this every time I am hungover, but this time I mean it. It’s Tuesday, two days since I have drank anything, and I still feel like shit.

Damn you, Ketel One vodka. DAMN YOU!

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Many exciting things have happened in the 24 hours since my last post.

Well, not really, but you know.

First, my favorite co-worker, Margie, came over yesterday to steal music in the form of burned cds (take that, Metallica!), and hang out and talk shit about everyone we work with, since we don’t get to do it at the office anymore (she got transferred to another one of our offices).

She brought her son with her, and he is apparently some kind of psychic, because he looked at my knocked up cat Boo, and said, “She’s going to have four babies. All black. One with a white spot on its head.”

Um.

Ok.

“Your kid’s weird, dude.”

“Yeah, no shit.”

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Secondly, I think I have secured my place in heaven by coming to the aide of a certain insane co-worker by the name of Celestia.

Yes. You read right. She was stuck in a really fucked up situation, and rather than stand back and laugh, which I would normally be prone to do, I was viciously attacked by my conscience, and intervened.

Dear Conscience,

Thanks, you fucking asshole.

Love,
Andria

Ok. I’ll explain.

Before Margie came over, I went to the grocery story to get some beverages and snacks.

Celestia lives within a mile of me.

When I pulled in the parking lot, I saw her car, and groaned, hoping I wouldn’t run into her. She must have just gotten there, because she jumped out of her car after I turned down the next aisle.

When I got out of my car, I saw her walking to the store, and then, in front of the store, next to a homeless guy, I saw Crack Head, a guy who used to work at our company, but got fired because he’s a speed freak and was strung out at work all the time.

Everyone (especially Celestia) hates Crack Head. I have a love/hate relationship with him. He’s a mess, and an ass, and a criminal, but having a conversation with him literally is like talking to a lunatic. You just never know what shit he’ll say next.

I saw Celestia walking, and I saw Crack Head approach her and say something. She waved, looked uncomfortable, and kept going.

When I got up to him, he yelled out, “Andriiiiiiaaaaaa! What up!”

“Oh, hey Crack Head. What’s going on? What are you doing here?”

“Dude. You’re not going to believe who I just saw going in the store. Celestia. She was like ‘Oh, hey Crack Head. I am so busy, I don’t have time to talk to you anymore, because I am busy being Mr. Big Shot’s personal assistant.’” Crack Head was Mr. Big Shot’s assistant when he got fired. He is way bitter about Celestia taking his job, even though it’s his own fucking fault.

“Oh, really? Hmmm… well, I can’t really talk. I am having company and I gotta get some stuff. I’ll see you around.”

“Oh, alright, then. Later.”

So I went into the store, and was in the soda aisle when I heard Crack Head yelling out Celestia’s full name for EVERYONE to hear. What came next was a long line of expletives, including, whore, cunt, and bitch.

I started going up and down the aisles looking for Celestia, when I found her towards the back of the store on her cell phone, I presume calling her boyfriend, Sucker.

She was freaking out. I walked up, and started talking to her, trying to calm her down, when Crack Head comes up and starts screaming about how he’s going to make her sorry she got him fired, and that Sucker was going to be sorry, and pretty much everyone was going to be sorry.

Celestia was panicking, and crying, and I can’t say at this point I blame her. A lunatic 6’3, 280 pound guy is screaming and threatening her, and no one (i.e., store employee) is doing a fucking thing to help her.

I walked up to Crack Head, and tried to talk him down, and get him to go outside with me, but he wasn’t stopping. He was like a pit-bull. At this point, I was running to find a manager, or another man, or fucking anyone who would help us get him the fuck away from her. I was seriously afraid he might hurt her. I found the manager and told him what was going on, and he called the police.

I ran back and did the only thing I could think of, and started making a joke about something that happened between he and I a few weeks after we started working together, and he started to laugh. We talked about it, and laughed, and I kept him as busy as I could while Celestia got the hell out of there.

She filled out a police report, and they asked her if she wanted to arrest him, but she said no.

I suppose she didn’t want any retribution for that.

This morning, she brought me Starbuck’s (because she knows I’ll sell my soul for a venti iced vanilla latte), and a little bunch of flowers as a thank you for helping her.

She can’t be crazy all the time, and I can’t be an asshole all the time, I suppose.

But, I can say for certain that she will do something to piss me off soon (maybe even before this day is over), and I will go back to hating her guts.

Wow. That was longer than I thought it would be.

Oh!! And when I was in line at the cashier, there was a black guy in front of me with a Hitler mustache.

Yeah. A Hitler mustache.

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In my last entry, I alluded to an email that I wrote to send to someone, and was relieved to see that I didn’t. In checking my sent mail, an email did in fact get sent, and I feel pretty damned retarded for it now.

I don’t even have feelings for Jason anymore, so I don’t know why I am torturing this poor boy with my drunken stupidity. More reason not to drink, I suppose.

Thank god he thinks I am so cute and funny, cause most guys would have kicked my ass by now.