A Blog By Me

I spent the majority of Friday staring at a computer screen trying to stir up some creative juices to tweak the Stores website so it doesn’t look so crappy……….
I also spent the day feeling like shit mentally……….. I don’t know if it’s the weather, the lack of sleep or just the fact that I hate my job these days. It doesn’t matter.
Half way though the day Boss Man throws me out of the store due to my shitty demeanor and tells me not to come back until I have smoked two ciggys or taken a nap. When I get back from my employer inflicted smoke break I find myself staring at what could have been one of the most whacked out, bitchassed women I have had to deal with in a very long time. While I was outside smoking, Boss Man was up in the office doing heavens knows what, she walked in, and shortly thereafter, I followed. As I walk past her to put my jacked in the back I say “I’ll be with you in a minute.”
She follows me in the back room. This is a huge no no. Not only is it the only space in the store where we can get some alone time, it’s also pretty cramped. Boss Man and I recently moved everything around in the back to accommodate the huge influx of shoes we got for the season. It;s still a mess, and hard to move around out back. I hate it when customers feel so inclined to step over the threshold the clearly states “EMPLOYEES ONLY”

“I want to try on a pair of shoes.” Says she

“I’ll be with you in a second,” Says I, not bothering to turn around or look at her. I haven’t even taken off my jacket yet.

“Now please.” Says she.

At least she said ‘please’

I turn around, look at her

“Please remove yourself from the stock room, I’ll be with you in a second”

With a huff she goes back out into the store.

I have space issues, I always have, it seems to have gotten worse since I was a dancer, I simply don’t feel comfortable with people invading my personal bubble. Some people can deal with other in close proximity, others can’t. I fall into the latter. When I was dancing, I always felt as if I was fighting a losing battle between preserving my self dignity and making a living, and it all came down to space. It’s a wonder I didn’t have more than one nervous break down. Sometimes you have to make sacrifices. I also have a major problem with people who feel as if they deserve to be waited on hand and foot.

I follow her back out into the store, she points to several different pairs of shoes. And stares at me.

I feel like grabbing a belt, and beating this bitch senseless with it. A nice 8 oz leather strap would do very nicely in this situation. The welts it would leave on her hide would most definitely scar.

“What size?”

“I need to be sized,” Sitting down she kicks off her shoes and looks at me.

“We don’t have a (foot thingimabobberwhatchamacallit), we size all the shoes custom.”

“What the hell? This is a shoe store isn’t it? How can you not have a foot sizer?”

I explain that the shoes we carry are all hand made and are not true to size, thus rendering the “foot sizer” totally useless. It would be a waste of money to buy one for the store.

Anyhow, she tries on four different pairs of shoes, buys none, and leaves, bitching.

I watch her go. And I think about my job. I sell shoes. I make belts. I do nothing to make any ones lives better. I have a lot of nurses come to the store for their Danskos. I love the nurses, with their smiles and experience’s. They usually remember me from either my many trips to the E.R or they know me from when my real mom worked in Dietary in the hospital.
My mom was a glorified lunch lady. She was a grunt worker, but she took her job seriously and loved it. And she was well liked and respected.
They always remember to ask me how it’s going with me getting certified as an EMT and gently chastise me when I tell them I’m dragging my feet with my final exams.

It’s all about what you project. I don’t take my job seriously. If I took my job seriously then it would mean that I am happy with mediocre. So, therefore I can not bitch about rude, obnoxious customers that rub me the wrong way.

I refuse to take my job seriously because I refuse to let it reflect on me personally. When I was dancing I was paranoid for a time that I would be viewed as promiscuous because of my “job”. If one can call it a job. I don’t think a lot of people realize just how hard it is (this is just my own opinion) to get up there and take your close off. For money. Some girls I danced with didn’t have much of an issue with it, but for about six months I couldn’t get up there sober. It’s really a wonder how I made any money. I saw/see a very fine line between hooking and stripping. The difference between the two, is space.

When I was about 16 I was on the highway behind this huge dump truck filled to the top with dirt, rocks and sand. While I knew I shouldn’t have, I was riding the trucks bumper, maybe four or five feet off the end, when the two of us went under a bridge, the bottom of the bridge scraped off a massive amount of the dirt that was piled way the fuck too high in the bed (or whatever you call it) of the dump truck. Onto my car. With me in it. I suppose it could have been worse. It could have been cow shit covering my car instead of rocks and sand.
You would expect, I would have learned my lesson on not tailgating huge trucks with rocks and shit in the back of them.
Well. About a year later (same car, same highway) I was tailing this time, a regular old Shepley truck. Piled high with lumber and the like. Senor Sheply hit a bump, and before I knew it, I had a 2×4 wedged oh so nicely in the windshield of my car.

I stopped tailgating after that.

Whoa brotha

“The man of knowledge must be able not only to love his enemies but also to hate his friends.”
-Friedrich Nietzsche

My ears wont stop ringing today, and I’m freezing. I spent this entire winter freezing, all I want is heat. Fuck it. I hate white trash.

1. Never hit a lady
2. Never hit a person who does not deserve to be hit, and who will not learn a lesson from getting decked.
3. Throw punches, not cell phones.

On Monday I got up around around nine am and was thrilled to see that it was pretty warm out, around 60 degrees, so, I threw on my suit and went outside to get some sun. And promptly fell asleep. I woke up around noon to the arrival of one of my boyfriends who was telling me I need to flip over or my sunburn wouldn’t be even. Sunburn? What sunburn, I look at my chest and stomach and see that not only am I salmon pink, but more of a fire engine red. Blah.

Flash forward to yesterday morning around 6 am. Boyfriend No. 2 calls, Boyfriend No. 1 answers my phone, I’m in the shower, when I get out I walk into the living room to a very pissy Boyfriend No. 1. Who seems to think that when I say “I am not seeing you exclusively” means something completely different. I was up front and honest when we started seeing each other, but whatthefuckever, not my problem he has selective hearing. Words are exchanges, which escalate into swears, which in turn becomes a yelling match. And then, he punched me. In the fucking boob. He nailed me right on my sunburned chest. Who the fuck does that? I kinda jumped out of his path when he threw his punch so I think his intended target was my face, and ended up slightly lower, but that’s not the point.
Wanting to cause as much pain to him as I was in I grab what I thought were my keys and launch it at his head. What I grabbed were not my keys.
It was my cell phone, and I didn’t exactly see this until it met its intended target and broke into about nine different pieces. After he leaves, I sit there and just stare at my cell phone. My lovely, dependable, cell phone. Should I bury it? Should I cremate it? No, I toss it in the trash with last nights dinner and go to work. And fume over my fucking cell phone.
After work I run to the mall, and get this one.

It was cheap, and small. I like small phones. I was at my buddy Mikes house last night, and was able to figure out that, when closed, I could fit it in my mouth rather comfortably.

It’s okay Snay, sometimes I wish I wasn’t an Agnostic so I would have a more concrete image of how I am suppose to feel about life, death and everything in between.

This kinda reminds me of something. Oh yea, the Berlin fucking wall.

One for the team. Kinda. Not really. I don’t know what I mean. But this is still pretty cool.

For my buddy Thorny Jack.

Remember the little ditty about peeing on an electric fence??

“Your really not all that,” Says you

Look at you,

“Actually, I am”, says I.

I am egotistical, vain and materialistic. Deal with it.

I prefer shoes to people.

Some people prefer animals to humans. Shoes and material things are relatively low maintenance, therefore requiring less work on my part. I’m also lazy.

“What the hell are these?” You ask

“Uh, shoes…” Says I

“Yea no fucking shit, why do you have them?!” I think you may be pissed.

“I need them for work. ” Treading in thin ice is what i did best…….

“You have fifty fucking pairs of shoes, why ANOTHER?”

What you didn’t know then, and that you don’t know now, is that I prefer shoes and cash to people because material things, aside being low maintenance, don’t hurt you. They don’t leave you unless discarded, stolen or just plain worn out. Call me materialistic. I am. But not for the shallow reasons. Shoes don’t cheat on you. They don’t try to control you. They don’t lock your keys in your car so you can’t go to work, they don’t change. And their pretty.

I’m not in it for the love, the glory, but for the cold hard cash, the really good sex and the fact that I can walk away from it all and still be better than you………..

This will more than likely be my last post on VTech, it’s not that I don’t care about what happened, it’s just that I don’t really feel like being every other person on the web writing about this.

I came across this article in the capecodtimes.com, and then came across this one, on CNN.com. It strikes me as odd that the article from the ‘times is a lot less…..angry, and almost sympathetic at Cho, and the one on CNN.com seems to be trying to turn this into some sort of fucked up play. I hate it when the media does this.
Cape Codders are a hardy bunch, but I think that we tend to be sheltered away from a lot of the media bullshit unlike the rest of the country, weather it be our own choice or not.