An entry in which I tell a very interesting story from last year and mercilessly lambast certain males along the way.
Saturday, Jun. 04, 2005 - 20:25

Let me tell you a story. Sit down. This will take a while.

It's not a story, just something that happened last year.

I might have already told it too.

Last winter I was working as a maid at a ski resort. I had Wednesdays and Thursdays off. One Thursday evening - February 19, 2004, to be precise - I decided, for reasons best kept to myself, to go out and get shitfaced. Which I did.

I started out with beer, and then I was drinking rum and cokes, and maybe I had some Tuaca, I don't know. Based on that information you already know how the night ended. But where's the storytelling in that? so I have to tell you.

I got attacked and bit on the back by a brick wall, which hurt so bad I could actually feel it. Sarah stole some bread from Safeway. I accused my sister of stealing my money and called her a motherfucker. I ended up lying on the street in a residential neighborhood puking for ten minutes at 1 in the morning. If it was cold, I couldn't tell.

I got up for work the next morning and I was okay, a little tired, a little wobbly, maybe still a little drunk, but I was fine. Usually I got the 7:30 bus up the hill but I decided to be a half hour late, so I got the 8:00 bus up.

On the ride up I started feeling crappier and crappier and crappier with each switchback and each pothole.

I walked into the laundry room with a white face and my hood on my head. Everyone said, "What's wrong?" "I have a hangover," I said. Everyone was excited and thought it was funny. I showed them the welt on my back from the brick wall attack. It hurt like a sonofabitch. (It left a scar.)

At noon I decided I couldn't take it anymore and I told my boss I was too sick to work. She should have been angry that I'd gone out on a worknight and gotten shitfaced and couldn't do my job. Instead she loved it, she thought it was great. "Go get some sleep, hon," she said. I was her favorite employee that day.

I went home. I went to bed (after writing an entry in my top secret online diary at 1:37). I slept until 6:30, and then I felt great, super, and fantastic. So I got up and went downstairs to get some dinner and go to a movie at the little old theater downtown.

Immediately upon my arrival in the dining room downstairs there was a knock at the door. It was Chris, a guy from my work. I liked him, we got along, but then he started liking me, and I didn't like him anymore.

So he came in and said, blah blah, I was wondering if you wanted to get some dinner and go to a movie. And I said, well gee as a matter of fact that's exactly what I'm doing, so if you want to go to the movie I was going to see you can come along.

So he did, and that's how he weaseled his way into a "date" with me.

Chris suffered from LMS. Here are the symptoms: He had a giant old Bronco or something that he parked in front of my house halfway up a giant snowbank. Seriously, like he thought he was going mountain climbing with it.
There was some sort of mardi gras party going on with a band playing and after the movie we went there and he started dancing in front of everyone. He tried to make me dance with him but I don't dance dude.
He got two masks for us and then he stole some balloons for me.
He was very aggressively testosterony and always had to be the center of things.
He was very annoying, I didn't like him at all. Once he started liking me I couldn't stand to be around him. One day he was gazing at me across the laundry table.

Yuck.

(And then later, after I had retired from housekeeping, he did a little embezzling with his new young girlfriend and got fired.)

I'd gone home early with a hangover! I could have still been sick! Not to mention the reason I decided to get shitfaced in the first place! Terrible timing!

The next night I went for a drive to the north side of the lake and the stars were out twinkling and sparkling in my eyes.

A month later I met that asshole/dork Peter, who also worked at the ski resort. I got very sick around that time and I haven't been sick since. Then my cat died and I was glad to have Peter to hang out with to take my mind off of that for a while.

Then Peter, that asshole/dork, decided not to be friends with me anymore.

Then May started and I decided to give up boys entirely for the month, which I later found out was National Masturbation Month, and I made good use of that irony, but then it got old after about the tenth joke.

Then I started working at my retarded landscaping job with a bunch of felonious males. And yes it was totally retarded and I went on a stupid horrible date with one of the guys that worked there (he was very nice and he was sort of cute but it was the worst date in the history of the world, Peter was my fucking soulmate compared to him) and one of the other guys from that job ended up being a very enthusiastic fan of mine who wasn't taking his medication - and so I established a firm rule not to get involved in any way with coworkers.

Coworkers suck, males in general are stupid fuckheads, and I hate everyone.

Also, I won't tip flirty baristas, I'm sorry, I know you're just doing it for the money you whores!