Rave: homemade chili with scorpion butch peppers and ghost peppers. nothing like a good sweat with dinner.
My little dog has cancer. The vet said it's "a very benign form of cancer, and no treatment is necessary right now." Reading up on it, it seems that most dogs simply live with the tumor. However, in some it grows aggressively. The advice varies from "leave it" to "remove it immediately." I'm a bit upset. He's only four. How can he have cancer?
Angry Fucking Wall Of Text Kill Everything Rant: I love teaching. Honestly and truly love it. It's one of the greatest joys in life to get someone to understand something that they struggled with before, and I enjoy everything about it, from the initial exploration of what they understand and don't understand, to the point where the lightbulb comes on, to when they just start running with it with all the enthusiasm of a crippled kid suddenly able to walk. As a result, I do a lot of tutoring. Not just with my job; I enjoy helping people out with their college classes, everything from math to English to programming. So, I was pleased when one of my coworkers said, "Hey, I'm taking Calc 1, and I'm kind of worried about it since it's an online class and the teacher's not there to help. You mind helping me?" He further sweetened the deal with a couple cases of Sierra Nevada, and we had a deal. Well, I'd just found my first belligerent student. See, before I'd always taught people who wanted to learn but needed help. This guy was, well, apathetic. I would go into an in-depth explanation of what was going on, only to get a grunt and a shrug. At first, I thought there was something wrong with me. Jeez, maybe I'm teaching this wrong. I haven't taught calculus to anyone since helping my classmates out in high school. I still know the material, but am I explaining it correctly? As time went on, though, it became clear that he just didn't give a shit. I'd explain a concept to him, write down explicit notes and formulas and explanations for him to use, and tell him to do a few problems on his own, and I'd come back the next day to find the notebook exactly where I left it. Guy didn't even touch it and then had the nerve to tell me that he "just didn't get it." Well NO SHIT you didn't get it, you didn't even try! Still, I'd been paid a bunch of good beer, and I felt obligated to continue. Maybe, if I teach this stuff well enough, he'll start to enjoy it and want to learn it on his own. So we limped through the rest of the semester, on towards the final. Finals time came, and he freaked the hell out when we started doing the final review. He simply didn't understand anything. Some of it was jitters, but he just didn't have any grasp of three quarters of the material. So he asked me to take his final for him. Yeah, I knew what I should've done. Tell him, "Sorry dude, I tried my best. You have to meet me halfway, and you didn't even start walking. You're on your own." Instead, I let him give me his sob story - he's got a wife and kid, if he fails the course he'll owe the Tuition Assistance folks 400 bucks, money that he doesn't have, I'm the only guy who can help him, etc. Another case of Sierra Nevada was offered, and I sighed and did it for him. I told him flat-out, "You understand NONE of this. You want to get your degree? Fine. But you'd better study your ass off for at least a year before you even think of taking Calc 2." He nodded, agreed, and thanked me profusely. So, imagine my surprise when he came into work a couple months later and said, "Hey, I'm taking Calc 2. Can you help me with this?" "You're a fucking retard. Drop the course right now." "Uh, deadline's already past. And I've got a 45 in the class right now." So I sighed, facepalmed, and demanded my usual price of beer. I made it very clear that I'd be much less involved and that he would have to do a massive amount of catching up to even have a hope of passing the class. We started going over stuff, and he was exactly the same as before. I called him out repeatedly for being a lazy bastard, and he would just grunt and shrug, same as always. So I called it off. "Dude, you're not giving me anything. I can't teach you if you aren't willing to do the work. I can't flash your brain like a thumb drive." I picked up my shit and left, thinking that would be the end of it. Well, he came into the shop while I was on shift. I was in a foul mood; I had a bunch of tedious busywork to do that should've been done in the morning by the last crew, Top had yelled at me for something retarded, and I had my own real work to do. And he came in at exactly the wrong time, right after I'd finished haggling with some shithead civilian over the phone. I looked up at him and said, "What?" "Uh, I have that Calc 2 final, and-" "I'm busy. Really busy." He then started giving me the exact same sob story, word for word, that he'd given me the last time. And, well, I just fucking lost it. Completely. I yelled at him for a good half hour, telling him exactly how worthless he was as a father, as a husband, as a man, as a Marine, and as a basic human being. I told him that he was a scumbag for trying to shift the blame for failing from him to me. I told him that I'd wasted so much time on him that would've been better utilized nailing my dick into a table over and over again and that I hoped he had to go beg to the chow hall for leftovers to feed his shitty little fucking family. I made him cry, and I eventually told him to get the fuck out of my compound before he infected my Marines with idiocy. I'm still mad. I'm sitting at my desk, banging this into my keyboard, and I'm gritting my teeth with pure unadulterated rage just thinking about it. Everything that happened is, at least in part, my fault. I should've walked away as soon as it became clear that he didn't care, but no, I had to try to reenact fucking Stand and Deliver and wasted my time and passion teaching calcooloos to this inbred assclown. This guy singlehandedly took one of the only things I've ever taken genuine pleasure in and ruined it with his stupidity, apathy, and blatant sociopathic opportunism. FUCK.
Cautious Rave: I have a job offer coming next Monday, according to a recruiter I'm working with. And another interview that day too. Monday will epic. Epically good or bad is anybody's guess.
Rant. RANT RANT MOTHERFUCKING RANT. It just took me 2 hours to make the 25 minute drive home. TWO FUCKING HOURS. Why? Because 1.5 cms of snow fell. It's not slippery, it's not icy, it's NOTHING. People are driving like fucking morons for NOTHING. Jesus lapdancing Christ.
Rant: I ordered new wheels for my car back in June that were supposed to be here in August. They get delayed a month because they are brand new style wheels and have to be made specialty like and the orders are backed up, understandable. They get delayed another month for the shipping across the ocean to the dealer, semi-reasonable. It's now the end of November and still no wheels. I am constantly having to pull updates and info from the dealer even to this day; not once has he updated me without me asking first, and I've gone weeks at a time without hearing a single thing. I'm getting to the point where I'm going to call the company myself to find out what the fuck is up. Shit like this shouldn't happen with a legit business.
RAVE: I reckon I just killed one of the adult roaches that made the mistake of laying eggs in this flat. I know it's dead because it entered that sub-species of roach called the Squish and left body parts on one of my shoes. Fuck this thing and it's children/pupa/larvae. I will find you and kill all of you. It was one of these: Picture:
Skip. Wall-of-text, nothing new, just posting to type it out somewhere without either starting family gossip or making a Simple Plan-themed livejournal page. Spoiler I am losing my sanity. I've been off Celexa for several months, and the depression has come back. It started out very very slowly, but has become exponentially worse. The pressure I used to feel in my head is back, melancholy and stress that hit like a ten ton hammer. Sometimes I can fight it, but usually I don't have the energy to. I know that to the people I interact with, I come across as a hateful asshole. Not that I ever disrespect anyone who hasn't disrespected me, but my face is a direct mirror of my emotions, something I still haven't improved upon much. Part of me hates myself for typing this out na dbeing such a whiny bitch but I'm going to come crawling out of my skin if I don't. I don't even know where to continue. My thoughts are everywhere. My financial situation is a mess. I bust my ass at two jobs, one of which went form offering me a promotion to cutting all my hours less than a month later, and all the GM can tell me is that he has no issues whatsoever with me. Unfortunately, that doesn't stop our new hires form getting more shifts than me, it doesn't make him fire the guy who cried wolf and made him hire new people to replace him before he said "Oh durr, I'm not leaving anymore." I can't live off of 25 hours a week. I am sick and tired of wrapping myself in layers of clothing because the oil space heater drives up my electric bill too much, and the baseboard are out of the question. I'm tired of giving 200% to jobs that fuck me over, of using my college savings account to pay rent, being too depressed to eat while my stomach hurts from hunger. Outside of work I spend my time sitting here watching TV downloads, playing a shitty MMO, and beating off to a spanking fetish so strong that I could count on one hand the number of non-spanking pornos I've gotten off to since I first discovered that funny tingling in my balls. My therapist, a worker at an inner-city low-income clinic, gave up on me. Whether it was too many rescheduled appointments, some my fault, some I couldn't help, or the fact that I couldn't articulate my issues. She seemed content not to dig and to just let me become a zombie on my meds, the same reason I stopped taking them. I don't even remember what result I got on the board personality profile, but the links people put up about INFPs fit me perfectly. I'm reserved, overly emotional, introspective to the point it drives me mad at times. I don't want sex, I want love. I AM the guy who feels more comfortable by the wall at a party, but I am also so goddamned lonely I can't fucking bear it. I want interaction, but being around other people drains the life out of me. I spent years trying to get with coworkers because that was my only place of interaction. A few months ago, I develioped another crush but FINALLY I got myself to the point where I was happy with the idea of just having a friend. There are few people whose company interests me and I enjoy enough that I would actually want to push for more interaction. She was one, and after months of slowly learning to trust each other as in-work friends, I tried to push for hanging out. Not even hanging out, just being running partners. She couldn't even give me the respect to say "No" rather than saying OK and blowing me off. Can't get laid, can't get loved, and can't even make a friend. I know a huge part of it is lviing in fucking Dayton, but Christ. Maybe I should have stayed on the pills, but there is something in me that would almost rather feel like this than feel nothing. As a child, I had a sense of wonder and a love for the world. I had a passion for life, an intense and insatiable curiosity. The schools I went to took some of that out of me, but the divorce killed it. I'm not saying my parents are all to blame for who I am now, they didn't help but my own choices in the past nine years hold the lion's share of the blame. I never had anyone to reach out to though, so maybe it's not. I don't know. I've lost my passion. My dad says it's abnormal and unhealthy to not have a passion, to have no lasting enjoyment of anything other than playing computer games and helping people (when I'm not feeling overly cynical). I think it's a personality quirk, and he has little room to talk about happiness and normality anyway. There's still something in me that tells me I have indescribable potential, but I can't seem to unlock it. The duality and conflict of what I'm feeling is further driving me mad and I can feel myself sinking again into apathy. And of course, in a few hours, or tomorrow, I'll feel nothing more than mild irritation if that. more likely I'll return to my norm of turning my mind off and losing myself in a game.
Rant: For once in my fucking life I would like to successfully cook a fucking omelette. One fucking time. Today's effort: Spoiler
Rave: Just officially booked and paid for my first flight ever. Going to Park City Utah for Sundance.
Rave: I tried a Hawaiian papaya for the first time today. It was eons better than the usual Mexican ones. They are more supple and delicate, and do not contain that harsh musky odor. I would highly recommend it.
Rant: In the past two days, my new boss has chastised me for trading a shift because we couldn't find a babysitter ("are you SURE you want to do that? I made the schedule that way for a reason, you know..."), and for staying 15 minutes late to help my coworker because SHE was late, buying printer paper (which could've waited or could've been done earlier) and we were stupidly busy ("Now it looks like I was late and you had to stay and cover for me and I don't appreciate that! He could've handled it on his own!")* I've spent the past two weeks playing good little employee and following all her new (silly) rules and ways of doing things, and in return I've been treated like a dog that took a shit on the carpet for bailing her out. I was literally the only one at that store that wasn't complaining about her constantly since she got there, and trying to give her a chance, and this is her reaction? She can fuck right off and die. Rave: I don't need that job, and I have zero qualms telling her where she can stick it if she continues with her bullshit. Rant: In two weeks, she has pissed off literally everyone that works there with her silly shit. She is incredibly manic, can't sit still, and will walk in and start three or four projects and then not finish them, leaving them for us to finish (usually cleaning up after her fucking messes). She leaves massively long "to do" lists for us to complete on our shifts, and gets upset when we can't finish them (for the record, we barely have time to finish our daily checklists, let alone her massive lists of useless, pointless jobs, like sweeping leaves or cleaning the lights). She has massively cut hours for a few people who were training to be closers/openers. We have two new people just hired, who get a combined 10 hours a week. Of those 10, they work about 4 hours, and get the other 6 cut because we're not busy enough. Both have said if it doesn't pick up soon they're quitting. She is intent on hiring one more person, because that's what we need. One more person that ends up only working 2 hours a week. This woman is one of the worst managers of people I've ever met, and she has zero business sense, either. I honestly think a trained chimp could manage our store better. Its a fucking video store, for fuck sake. *She did not come in the store, and did not know we had a line of seven people waiting to check out, and we were busy all day. So sure, I could've left and he could've handled it, and our customers could've told us to fuck off because they didn't want to wait in line for fifteen minutes to rent what they could get at redbox. Good thing she is so concerned about customer service.
BIGGEST RANT OF THIS YEAR: I think I have figured out why so many people are complete cockheads. It's due to a device many of us are forced to use every day and it is called the low flow shower head. What an absolutely useless piece of garbage this thing is. I have seen hobos taking a piss with more velocity than this thing. It also cannot maintain temperature - every 30 seconds requires you to stop soaping yourself up and adjust the fucking taps while it proceeds to burn/freeze you. You can also forget about masturbating in here, unless you like being grilled like the Colonel's chicken or frozen like last night's curry in the deep freeze. Don't these "inventors" know that the more "features" you add to something, the more likely it is to be a steaming pile of shit when you've finished?! This shower head was made in Germany for fucks' sake! These are not people who usually get things wrong*, engineering-wise. I would like to meet the government wanker who came up with the scheme to force suppliers into supplying these crap shower heads, cut his/her** head off Middle Eastern style and parade it through the streets before using it like a football and kicking it in the direction of the harbour. Maybe the fish won't get poisoned by the pure shit in that man/woman's brains. Well done to that wanker who has taken my ten minutes*** that I had to enjoy my shower and turned it into twenty minutes of running and having a bath - yes, I am considering a bath for the first time in 15+ years, that's how bad that last shower was. *Yes, the Nazis were wrong. **I don't know if it was a male or a female who came up with this horseshit. ***I'm not a "shower wanker", either. I wash and I get out. I have other things to do.
RANT: Who the fuck keeps spamming the site with all that bullshit, and how can we find them so we can lower them slowly feet first into a vat of boiling oil?
RAVE: Before I went to bed last night my weekend had already involved death metal, strippers, tigers and weed. RAVE: I'm now a volunteer at a big cat sanctuary. I'll now spend my weekends trying not to be eaten by pussy.