Took another epsom (epson? No, Epson is the printer.) salt bath last night after whining to Mom that my baaaaaaaaaack still hurts. I cranked on the water super hot, then threw in a dash of cold at the end thinking that would even out the temperature. Why can't I be normal? I have no idea, but I had to stand around naked for like 15 minutes waiting for the water to cool off enough to get in. Why didn't I go do something else in the meantime? I don't know. Didn't think it would take that long, I guess. I kept trying to get in and burning the shit out of my feet. Finally I just gave up and got in anyway, hoping my skin wouldn't slough off. Then I got really overheated, so I put up with it as long as I could, then went to bed because I was suddenly super tired and had a big headache. I slept for about 10 hours last night. Riley was exasperated with me. She was game for sleeping until around 3 am, when I could hear her huffing around, like "Goddammit, I slept all day!" So this morning I clipped her leash on and walked her around the neighborhood at a lively pace rather than letting her meander as I usually do.
I have two complaints for you today, but they come with a disclaimer:
I have no idea who reads my blog. I have some idea, but the numbers do not line up with just those that I am aware of. Plus, I'm thinking of posting more links on Facebook to try and increase my number of readers, but there are people that I want to talk shit about, and I can't very well do that and invite them to read it, right? They could be reading it already without me knowing. It's probably better that way. Besides, this is supposed to be honest. Well, censored honesty.
1) When will I learn that they are all dirty old men, regardless of age? I think it's gross, and I am perpetually optimistic that they aren't all like that, but this truth is continually confirmed. I know it must have to do with a refusal to age gracefully. I realize that there are women like this too, but they aren't hitting on me, so I don't care. Yes, old men will often cross that line of what is appropriate. I attract old men and rednecks. But this time- and unfortunately not the first time- it is a friend. Or someone I thought was a friend. It's subtle, but the dialogue has certainly changed. It makes me mad because there is such a lack of decency- I have barely begun grieving my love- but where is the respect for your friend? Why does the expression "Bros before hoes" exist? They don't honor that, but maybe it's an easy expression because it rhymes. And really, it's not that honorable if you call women "hoes" in the first place. I know I am no garden tool. What really irks the shit out of me is the thought that I am looking for any port in a storm, so to speak. Am I a helpless sheep, vulnerable to wolves? Do I have no morals? Am I just waiting for someone to swoop in and take over? Of course, I realize that the male mind, when preoccupied, is not thinking of these things- there is just a very shallow, instinctual, animal motive. I suppose I could be flattered, or quote lines from When Harry Met Sally, but really, not classy, dude. Not classy.
2) My second complaint involves a coworker and therefore must be cryptic. Your "needs" are ridiculous. I am not being mean or insensitive. If it's really that bad, you shouldn't be driving. If it's really that bad, maybe you need to be somewhere you feel safe. There is a line for accommodations before you just can't do the job. Have you thought about the fact that everytime you don't show up, you are adding a lot of weight to the rest of us? Or that you are occupying a spot where someone else could be hired? I don't know your story, admitted, but so far you have not shown much willingness to help out or be part of a group, as other disabled folks are totally capable of doing. And your attitude sucks.
Now I'm going to go walk around for a while because my legs are cramped from being under this damn desk all day as I answered the phone while other people stuck their thumbs up their asses. 80 calls by 1:30. Go soak your heads, assholes.
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