Spoons, Sporks, And Monsoons

I’ve already had my dose of fresh hell this morning that took pretty much ALL my spoons for the day. We needed a bag of cheap litter, a bottle of melatonin, and a jar of pizza sauce so I can make cheese pizza later. I asked my dad if they had any work I could to do to earn $3-$5. This resulted in being told all about their own troubles (they’re getting haircuts today, just paid property taxes in cash, and are eating out for the third day in a row, oh boo fucking hoo for them, and she doesn’t even have to work,ffs.) He guilted me. Told me to go to Mickey D’s open interviews ( cos I didn’t do that six months ago only to not hear a fucking word!) and since they hired my brother, they’ll hire me too then I can carpool and take him to work with me and they will take care of my kid and have her pushing gas mowers all summer…

There. went. all. my spoons.

The man just cannot get it through his head that IF THEY WON’T HIRE YOU, IT DOESN’T MATTER HOW MANY TIMES YOU KEEP TRYING. And I have a sneaking suspicion of why I was deemed unhireable by that place but it makes me sound like a paranoid assclown. Only thing is, I worked management and this sort of thing happens constantly. Someone applies for a job, they come in to talk to management, and then another employee says oh, I know them, they’re weird, don’t hire them…and often it really IS that simple and I only believe it because being inside the management circle, I saw it happen. He’s had the same job 43 years, he has no fucking clue. And I would rather starve and move to live on my mom’s sofa than let them ‘babysit’ and put my kid to slave labor. She’s not even ten yet and barely has the strength to push an old reel mower, let alone a gas one.

This will make me very hated by you, I am sure, but the truth is what it is and lately, I’ve been counting down til my dad is dead and I am finally fucking FREE of him, of his woman, of their man child.

But let’s play devil’s advocate here so I don’t look so overreative and mental. My kid and I have an eye doctor appointment Tuesday at 11 a.m. Open interviews are that day at 1:30. So do I take her along  cos I sure as hell don’t have enough gas to bring her back to Armpitopia school district then go back to town then come back home, that’s like 80 miles and I will be lucky if the gas in the car now gets me through all of our appointments this month. He made no offer to help me with the gas thing, and had no answer as to me taking her along with me except it probably wouldn’t look good to not have adequate child care…The week after this, my kid has a well kid check up in the morning. I am already calling her off for the day because even if the appointment is over by ten thirty, I’d still have to make that 80 plus mile trip to take her to district school then  back to town for open interviews. (Oh, and for the record, the McDonald’s job listings have been listed as filled on all my on line site notifications, indeed, snag, ziprecruiter,etc).

I’m just so fed up with that man in my fucking space. And it was my own doing cos we need litter and melatonin, and yes, for $3 even on a cold rainy ass day I am willing to work for it  cos I buy from the dollar store, LITERALLY, so three items, three bucks. I can’t do it til Tuesday since I am low on gas in the car but I am trying to do right by offering to do work and earn what I need. It’s not like I said give it to me cos I am your kid and I am fucking marvelous! Such a cold hearted dickbag, my dad. And my mom is back in nasty mode, too, telling me how awful I am for punishing my kid for breaking her THIRD tablet. “We’ll just buy her another one, get off your high horse!” That is a problem, that is why she breaks everything, cos gramma and auntie will just buy more stuff.

Never a good sign when I need a Xanax before 11 am.

But we’re on dog duty for the day and it’s bloody miserable and then I gotta towel dry the dogs after each time and then they need cuddle comforted cos the rain upsets them…God, dogs are a lot of fucking work and neediness. Spook can do the comfort thing. I’m too pissed off and defeated.

At this point I’d wipe up a nasty ass peep show booth if it meant not having my dad in my business and telling me what to do, because I have done it his way and it still isn’t working cos THEY DO NOT WANT TO HIRE ME, GODDAMN IT MOTHERFUCKER SON OF A BITCH ASSHOLE SHITFACE DICKBAG.

No, it was not necessary for me to swear that much, but it was cathartic for me.

swear a lot

Mostly, I just needed to vent. And another thing, working the same job as family members never goes well, I tried that with where my mom and my sis worked and there’s just this expectation that if they are great at something, you must be as well, and if not, then you’re a lazy loser and they are told about it…NOPE.

Ya know what I’d LOVE to do just for the sheer sleaziness that would embarrass my parents if they had to repeat my job? PORN SITE OPERATOR. It would make me giddy if they had to explain,”Oh, our daughter’s in internet porn…”

Muha ha ha ha. Whatever it takes to motivate me, and honestly, with overly critical heartless parents, sometimes your only victory is in embarrassing them. So if anyone knows of any ways to get into like foot fetish porn on line, I have a can of creamed corn, a camera, and big feet to slosh around in it. Yeah, I don’t know how anyone finds that a turn on.

As long as their credit card info is accurate, does it matter? A ghoul can dream…

 

 

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