Every hour in that hellhole is one more reason for me to avoid human interaction at all costs.

Seriously.

I am an unholy priest in a monastery of razzle dazzle and lies. Having taken an oath of never shutting the fuck up, I am cursed to spew the glittering gospel of retail. Asking questions without giving a shit about the answer, feigning interest in people’s lives, talking and talking and talking without saying a goddamn thing; all in the hopes of taking your money. But behind the toothy grins and just-too-hearty laughs of the sales floor lies a cannibalistic ritual of backstabbing and shit-talking, where other members of the capitalistic clergy snarl-smile at each other like dogs circling a lone scrap of meat and eat the reputations of their peers alive.

So maybe I’m being a little dramatic.

Whatever. I need the outlet.

WHO IN THEIR RIGHT MIND DECIDED THAT IT WOULD BE A GOOD IDEA NOT TO CLOSE THE STORE ON NEW YEAR’S DAY WHEN WE WERE ALL PREVIOUSLY TOLD IT WOULD BE CLOSED? HUH?

A SOULLESS FUCKING SADIST, THAT’S WHO.

FUCK FUCKING FUCK FUCK.

I’M SO PISSED I’M THINKING IN ALL CAPS RIGHT NOW.

THINKING ABOUT SLAUGHTERING PEOPLE.

AND CLEANING UP THE BLOOD WITH HATS.

AND HIDING ALL THE BODY PARTS IN HAT BOXES.

.

.

.

But seriously, if I get called in, you can bet I’m not going to give a single fuck about selling a goddamn thing.

Y’all can suck my balls.

Fuck you.

Fuck you for never doing any work, taking my customers, and saying totally inappropriate things on the sales floor.

But mostly,

Fuck you for being a douchebag about helping me out when I’m sick off my ass.

I’ve texted him twice before asking if he could cover shifts for me. If he had responded, told me that there was something he couldn’t get out of, I would have been like, sure. No worries man. I’ll ask someone else. But instead he simply ignores the texts, later saying that the reason why is because he slept in. Until 4. Or that he didn’t get them at all. Super.

So today, I text him asking if this is in fact his number; a ruse, if you will, to see if he is conscious before asking for the real favor. He says yes. Or, actually, “Yayuh”

Haha. Bait taken. So I ask. “I’m super sick, could you cover my shift tomorrow, I’ll owe you big time, eternally grateful, blah blah blah” Except, I am sick. And I would be eternally grateful. So I’m praying to whatever pagan god will accept me at this point. Half a fucking hour later I get a text that says, “Not around girlie  ! Sorry!”

The fuck? Not around girlie? That’s all I get? You ballsack. I know for a fact that all you’re probably doing is shrooming and wandering around a rave trying to peddle your tacky hand-bedazzled hippy sunglasses or some shit.

Luckily my other coworker is the sweetest thing since condensed milk and said she’d switch a day with me and I love her.

But Nick, you douchey bastard mc fuckface, I officially hate you.

I feel like utter shit, emotionally, physically, socially.

I hate myself for being this weak.

I have nothing to offer anyone.

I can’t deal with the world right now.

Other people handle their shit and make it look easy. Or at least manageable. I’m having trouble finding the will to function.

Do I have someone I can talk to? Not really, no.

Do I deserve someone to talk to? Not really, no.

…but that’s why I have a blog.

Isn’t the internet for porn AND inept, emo pussies like me who need a place to vent their stupid frustrations that no one wants to hear about?

Yes.

Yes it is.

I’m sorry, I know this has been a really depressing post so here’s a .gif to keep everyone happy

That has to indicate something.

I’m just not quite sure what.

• A necklace of her name
• Earrings that say “love” or “peace” or some shit
• A hollister t-shirt
• A Victoria’s Secret PINK sweatshirt
• Juicy Couture sweatpants that say something like “classy” across the ass
• and one of those hideous Louis Vuitton LVLVLVLVLVLVOMGSTFU bags

I’m all,

Just… love it.

Super.

Keep it up.

Dickbag.

It’s been like 10 minutes.

…Seriously?

Is anyone else completely unamused by those “what happened?” jokes?

Like,

Person 1: “Oh, you were so adorable as a child!”

Person 2: “Yeah, what happened? Uh huh huh heh heh.”

Me: -___________________-

ahaha-STFU.

You’re not funny.

Last night I had this really intense dream where I was dating Mike Patton but he kept morphing into this guy (who I need to get the fuck over IRL), or they were sort of the same person or something. It was mostly Mike though, thank god.

It was confusing and frustrating, and other than the morphing, pretty realistic.

Goddamn it. I’m sick of thinking about this guy (not Mike, don’t worry). He doesn’t deserve it and it’s been almost a year since I’ve even seen the fucker. But suddenly I get a roll of film developed, and he’s on it. Just once. But that one picture is all it takes.

Fuck.

Do I need to go have more casual sex to get over this? Or do I actually have to attempt to find someone who will be interested in me for more than one night?

Frankly I think I’d have better luck with the casual sex.

Then again, I may just be setting myself up for more emotional/psychological issues down the road. Hmm. Tricky.

?

How depressing.

no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no.

Just when I thought Christopher Nolan and Christian Bale had repaired the batshame wrought by George Clooney’s failed attempt at badassery, this. Is this a step back toward Adam West? Just tell me. Is it? Is it??