***WARNING: I am about to post possibly the bitchiest blog post to date. There will be no humorous tales or Dina screenshots so proceed at your own risk. Also, I will say Fuck a lot.***
Today was the shittiest Friday in the history of the world. I am so fucking OVER the cell phone bullshit. This was day 3 of unsuccessful negotiations and I'm about ready to just say fuck it and revert back to an old rotary dialer and slowly phase technology out of my life forever. Last night I went to Wal-Mart to pick up the G1. Well, the bitch is like "sorry, I get off in 10 minutes, I can't help you." Wtf? I gave her my best hate-filled confused gaze and she informs me that due to company policy, they're not allowed overtime, so I'll just have to deal with it and come back tomorrow. Fine, even though I think it's fucked up, FINE.
So I go back on my lunch break today and of course, she's on break. 20 minutes later, she comes strolling up with a bag of Lay's and a Mountain Dew and helps the people that were in front of me in line. Another 20 minutes passes. Finally, my turn. "Yeah, I was here yesterday, I still wanna upgrade." "Oh yeah, I remember you. But, we don't have any G1s." This is when my head explodes. Like, why the fuck couldn't you have told me you didn't have those shits last night when you had TEN MINUTES LEFT and you couldn't help me? WHY TELL ME TO COME BACK TOMORROW? WHY ARE YOU SUCH A CUNT?? I hate you. I walk away because the last thing I need is to start a screaming match with this dumb bitch in the middle of a fucking Wal-Mart which is already like white trash capital of the universe. Let's not make this harder than it has to be.
I get back to work in full-on rage and proceed to have a fucking miserable afternoon of being treated like shit by crabby old assholes calling in looking for their social security checks. The first is on a Monday, BACK OFF. I fucking hate the end of the month bullshit at work.
After work, I have to go get all cracked and adjusted at the chiropracter again where I was stared at for a good half hour by a 5-year old in a fedora. At least she didn't ask her dad why I was so fat, which I love, really. Maybe she asked in the car. Thanks for that, at least.
Then it's off to yet another WalMart to try to get the damn phone. This time I see the line of people and decide to ask if they have the phone before I wait in this sweaty ass line. It is in stock, okay...great. So I wait 46 minutes and I finally am NEXT. This is it, I can feel it. So I do the paperwork and give the girl my ID and she comes back with "oh, it says you don't have an account with T-Mobile." Hmm. Turns out that since Jeff is the primary on the account, my information is basically useless and even though the phone is like RIGHT THERE on the counter like inches away from my frustrated grip, I can't have it. "Nope, sorry, I could lose my job." God forbid this bitch loses her prestigious Wal-Mart job over my phone so again, I walk away. It's not her fault, and I really wasn't pissed at her, but you know how when you're having a shitty shitty fucking shitty day, everything that goes wrong seems like the worst thing in the world?
Yes, well I was there. My eyes were getting that frustrated mist and I was like DONT CRY OVER A FUCKING PHONE YOU ASSHOLE so I cut that shit out and just got in the car and drove away.
Feeling like an utter failure, I decide to add insult to injury by getting a Slurpee on the way home. Obviously that is the smart thing to do. Let's feed this anger. Isn't that how that saying goes? Starve a cold, Feed your shitty rage? Something like that.
Anyway, I'm in line waiting to pay for my Slurpee when this dude in front of me is like staring me down like I'm covered in shit. For the record, I NEVER INVITE CONFRONTATION. For all my sailorish talk and biting sarcasm, I'm actually really shy and a total pacifist. But, I dunno, like, I just snapped. Like, this dude obviously had some kind of lip cancer or something because his lip was like about to fucking fall off his face, and here he is buying a can of copenhagen, YET I'm being stared at for being a fattie buying a Slurpee. Fuck that. "Man, what the fuck are you looking at?" Like I said it before I even knew I was saying it. Rage.
"NOTHING!" he said like I had no fucking right to ask. Fuck him. Dead-lipped asshole. Then I had to get checked out by the clerk I HATE. He's all nice and cool with everyone and then he never says like 2 words to me. I ask him for a bag and he puts the shit on the counter EVERY TIME like it's not his fucking job to bag my shit up. He's a fucking fat nerd and if there's one thing I HATE it's a fucking fat dude that hates fat girls. Like, get the fuck over yourself. Maybe you wouldn't be such a lonely asshole nerd if you could embrace your fucking fat equals instead of treating me like some piece of shit because we share a similar shirt size, you self-serving cock.
Like, seriously, nothing pisses me off more than a fat person who hates fat people. I can not fucking stand it. Life is not a fucking sitcom and you are not going to end up with some skinny bitch just because you look like Kevin James, you fat bastard. I hate you, really I do.
I came home and put the Slurpee in the freezer and just cried for like 5 minutes to get this shitty day out of my head. Maybe it's PMS, I dunno. I can't tell if I'm being extra-sensitive or if this disastrous attitude is warranted. It's still in the freezer. I didn't even drink it. Sometimes I just wanna buy shit. I dunno. I really don't know what the fuck my deal is...I'm just being irrational. Fuck this day. At least it's almost over.
Tomorrow I'm getting a pedicure and bangs so if both turn out shitty, I'll know that the universe is actually out to get me.
You know, I used to be a fairly optimistic person. I know it's in me somewhere to just be happy. I really gotta get back to that part. Maybe I need to give therapy another try. I'm sick of being pissed off and jaded all the time. Shit's no fun.