Day 1 without Facebook.

 Well blogland, I deactivated my Facebook last night.

Admittedly I did it in the midst of the beginning of my seasonal breakdown and I was crying and as I always do, I just wanted to run away.  I think deactivating Facebook is the adult version of running away.

The problem is, Facebook or rather, Meta owns so damn much that it's next to impossible to log into stuff once you shut down your account.  Like every turn leads to reactivating the bitch so you can't really run away.

I get sucked into this black hole every yearend I'm never able to fully pull myself to the edge until after the Valentines Candy is sold out and all the lovely doves shit is over.

For the 16th yearn a row, when the clock strikes midnight into the new year I will be alone.  Nearly everyone I now will have someone to kiss and I will not.  For God knows how many years in a row, I will have no-one that thinks of me on Valentines day.  No one to send me a card or kiss my cheek and tell me they love me.  

Because no one loves me.

I have to sit here in my room every night and watch people meet that special someone, brag about how happy they are, post pictures of them together, get engaged and eventually married and they play all this out on  Facebook for everyone to see and then either don't get that some of their friends look at that stuff (because we can't avoid it) and want to go cop squat in traffic. It's not that I don't want them to be happy.  I really love that they're happy.  Just want to be that happy.  Just once in my life.  

I was married but I was never happy.  Randy didn't want to be married and he made me feel every bit of his anger at being married.  Every single day.  I was never happy in my marriage and neither was he.  Th difference is that he went out and he found Gabi and they are happy. He's finally happy and I'm still sitting here in the fall out shelter that's become my life.

Do you know that I haven't been invited to a holiday party in years.  Every year I see people post pictures of their parties and I might lie them or comment that it looks like they had fun and they inevitably come back and say "You should come next year!"  I would freaking love to come but I only find out you had a party the day after.   Stop telling me I should come next year if you never tell me when the fucking party is!  That just tells me that you don't want me there in the first fucking place.  I have never once been invited to a Halloween party, a Friendsgiving, or a Christmas party. Not even a New Years party.

I'm 44 years old and I have never once been see to a holiday party. Not even a 4th of July party.  I had a birthday party thrown for me once but it wasn't really a party for me.  I mean only two people talked to me the whole night.  At my party.  That felt great.

I finished Survival of the Thickest on Netflix yesterday.Good show but it made me realize that I'm simply not fat enough.  You can have love if you are a twig. And you can find love if you are big as a Macy's day parade float. But if you are only mildly big, you don't get love.  You get backaches and headaches and wanting to crawl into traffic on a major highway blindfolded.

And don't try to lose the weight  so you can be a skinny mini because being big and beautiful is so in right now.  It's hot.  For years we lived with the barbie thin models and now, the big girls are taking over. But not the little big girl, just the big big girls.  They're the only ones that are beautiful enough to be happy in their skin.

I swear if I were more religious, I would join a silent convent.  Never speak to anyone ever again.  Won't have to worry about parties.  Won't care about being left out.

What a crock.

Sixteen years I've been feeling like this.  My marriage sucked warm donkey balls in the desert sun but I would have rather been miserable WITH a husband than miserable knowing I failed at marriage.  Just like my parents.

I thin that's what it comes down to honestly.  All my life I've wanted to be someones loving wife.  I'm not lying when I tell you that I really had no other when I grow up goals besides being married and growing old with him.  No princess, not anything remotely feasible.  I only ever wanted to be the someone that he came home to night. I only really ever wanted to be the someone that kissed him as he left for work and kept the house.

Which is odd because I kinda suck at housekeeping.  Well not not really I don't, I just have no one that I will ever bring back to mine so why clean it up.

When I think of all the boys I had crushes on in my life I feel like I didn't even know who the girl that liked them was.  And some of those guys are just straight assholes.

Like Ben Brody. That little fuckface with the gimpy thumb.  I was in love with him his senior year and he ignored the ever loving fuck out of me.  I saw him after I was grown and married.  Randy and I were at Atlantic City and I introduced him and do you know that that that maggoty fat fuck had the nerve to look at Randy with pity like "Oh man you married her? I feel for you man."  I had a crush on Chuck Egan.  He like some skinny brunette.  BE he's still good peeps.  There was Jason Ambrose.  No idea where he is now.  Don't really care.  Jason Sadwidth.  I think that was his name.  I know it was Jason.  I really liked him but I was just the goofy friend to him.  The girl with the Swiss rolls that would always share.

Don't boys know that if a chubby black girl shares her Swiss rolls with you, that means she pretty much loves you? I mean come on, we don't come up off of chocolate for just anyone??  Liked a guy named Mered Parnes.  Also Santo Perrotto.  They can both rot in a hell of my choosing. Both of them.  Both of them took big strides to embarrass me to show me just how revolting I was to them.

And then there was the great Donald.  He knew I liked him.  HE even threw me a bone and we slept together but I had a mini mental breakdown because things in my life were going just a lot haywire and he dropped me so damn fast I got whiplash.  It's taken me years say outloud that I dislike him.  I haven't gotten past dislike. Im stuck there.  But I dislike Donald because he used me and let me hang there like stinking rag just waiting for him to have time for me again.

I need to go to bed.  It's a quarter after one... 

And I'm all alone and I need you now.

Sorry my subconscious would have sung that song all night in my dream if I hadn't finished it.

Blog you later.

So over living here...

 Well, 2023 is coming to a close.

Surprise surprise, life still sucks ass. No not ass.  Ass isn't the right word.  You know how when you are walking across the lawn in the rain and you step in a mud puddle and just as you are trying to get the mud off your shoe, you step into a dog shit pile and as you're rubbing that shit off your step into a manure pie because the lawn was just mulched.  Yeah, my life's like that smell.

Pizza Hut fired me exactly one week before my birthday. Do I feel bad?  No, not at all.  Honestly, I'm glad to be out.

Financially I'm struggling but I'll get there.  One day.

Keep in mind, that's the ONLY thing I'm hopeful about for 2024.

I sent yet another year with no man even so much as grazing any part of me hidden by clothes.  Y'all, not so much as a smile from one.  

I gave up soda to help watch my weight.  I gain ten pounds.  Or twenty, I'm not counting.

I stopped living my whole life online.  Not sure why I did that but I think it was because I was made aware that guys don't like women that are attached to their social media. Pretty sure that was bullshit.  It's whatever, I don't even know how to post deep in-depth shit online anymore.  

You know, I have changed who I am so many times, I don't even know who I am.

How sad I that?  I don't even know who the fuck I am.

I know I'm fat.  I think I'm black.  I mean currently my mom is slow cooking neck bones in the crockpot and it smells like boiled footballs so I know I'm not that black.  I'm like just a smidge past the Mason Dixon black but not slow cooked pork neck bones black. Cause ewww. I know I can be annoying.  I figured that out years ago.  I also know I'm batshit crazy.  I feel like that's part of my charm.  But as for the rest of me I don't know who that is.

Did you know that a lot of new shows on Netflix were about plus sized black women finding their groove this year? Do you know what that taught me?  That I'm not fat enough to find my groove.  The men seem to only want the really big girls.

Why can't they want the moderately big girls?  Or maybe they do and they just don't want me.

My last post was may 22, 2022.  I said I was pretty sure I'm never having sex again.  Called it.  

At this point, that's probably a good thing.  Im pretty sure if I were ever able to have an orgasm again, Id do some dumb shit and bark because I don't know how to react.  

Fuck the new year.

Happy 2024yall...

So tired...

 Wow... it's been almost a year since I used this blog.  One would think that Iforgot it was here, but I haven't.  Every now and then I pull it up and read back that was the mess that is/was my life.  It's not fun.  Its a special torture that I reserve for my really bad days.

Well, I'm back at slut hut.  I went back as a driver, but it took them approximately five months to lasso me back into a collared shirt.  Not even going to cover how that happened.  If you know you know.

On to the title.  So tired.

I am so tired of people telling me, "I can't hang out with you because you have kids."  Like, have you ever heard of a babysitter?  Ever?  They exist so that parents can go have a life.  Except for me apparently.  I don't need to hire babysitters, because 80% of the people in my life decided that they can't hang out with me because I have kids.  Why hire a babysitter when you have no life.

And my favorite are the men who LOOK ME IN THE EYE and tell me, "I can't date you because you have kids."  Like, when I was freshly single and had three not quite big enough to fully understand kids, I saw it, I accepted it without much of a fight.  When their father managed to not only have one relationship with another woman while he had them, and then proceeded to marry another woman while he had them, I thought, okay, they understand.  Now to find someone for me.

But no.  I am undateable because I have kids.  Period.  No argument.  

I've been told that THIS YEAR. 2022.  I have a 23, 22, and a 21 year old.  My 23 year old has a son of his own.  I am a mother fucking GRANDMOTHER, but nope, I can't get a date... because I have kids.

And yes, he was serious.

I'm the fuck friend.  But only occasionally.  Why?  Because I have kids.  Now I'm not even the fuck friend.  

Im honestly scared to even attempt to have sex again.  It's been so long, what if I fuck up and scream out that I love them and want to marry them?  What if I bark?  Oh God, what if I fart in the middle.  I'm 42 now and a grandmother, sometimes the gas has a mind of it's own. LOL, just kidding, but secretly... not really.

Not that it matters.  I will likely never have sex again.

Because I have kids.

They say life sucks and then you die.  Is that a promise because I think I've more than fulfilled my sucking quota.  I'd like to die now.

And be reborn as someone pretty with a flat stomach a nice ass and more than a handful of tits.  

Probably won't get sex then either...

groan...

What the fuck...

 ...did I do to deserve this Karmic revenge?  I feel like I did some serious shit to someone in a past life that THIS life is where the karma bus dropped me off and told me "good luck" and drove away.

So Mildred died Saturday.  It was not a surprise. It w as very expected.  We all knew it was coming Saturday was a great day.  One of the bests that I have had in a long while. But Sunday?  What the fuck and where the fuck did that come from.  Dell called me to tell me about her mother and I was quiet and went on.  I don't know if it didn't hit me then or what.  But I don't think that's what this past few days is about.  Sadly, I think it was the trigger.

Since Covid started, my mother has become this recluse that acts like I am her one and only lifeline to the outside world.  If I step away for even a second, she will drown.  Like literally drown.  If I work more than my normal in her eyes, she suddenly needs to call me EVERY DAY and sometimes during work.  But if I answer and tell her I'm at work, se's like "Oh! I'm sorry!  I forgot!" but then has to have a conversation regardless and if I insist that this can be done later, she gets all moody.  Even if I call her back when I'm not at work, moody.

I don't understand this at all.  Like AT ALL.  I was raised by a no nonsense, I-can-do-it-all-by-my-damn-self woman who raised me not to be needy.  As a result, needy people annoy the ever loving hell out of me.  I even raised my kids to be self sufficient so that they aren't needy.  Well two of my kids at least... well one... Fuck it, I don't know.  So my mom suddenly needing me every goddamn day is throwing me and when I try to distance myself just a little bit because I don't want to snap, she makes it seem like I'm leaving her on a island all by herself and sailing away for parts unknown.  Never to be seen again and this causes a panic attack. which makes her call and whine and need me.  I don't even know what happened Friday but not being able to catch her breath and me not responding in the manner she deemed appropriate for the situation caused a whole host of problems.  It went into t Saturday but when she checked the location on her phone to see that I had flitted all the way down to South Carolina we went back to me sailing away and leaving her on an island all alone and BOOM, instant full blown, I can't breath, I'm scared and you aren't here I need you help me whoa is me episode. Sunday, much of the same but I was local now so it wasn't THAT big of a deal.  Monday, her doctor called her back and told her it was a panic attack and guess what?  She's fucking fine.  Oh but not before she ordered a medic alert panic button.  Yay.  We have to cancel the trip to Cherokee.  My time in the mountains with no one but me and a stream and a rocking chair?  Oh that's toast.  No, she doesn't think she should be around the smoke and she won't be able to walk tat far and cue violins but maybe... since it's her birthday this weekend I can take her by the new casino at kings mountain where she's been wanting to go for weeks now.

Does anyone see what she did here?  Guilt trip.  It's my birthday so I HOPE you'll come by.  I'm feeling better now and when I feel better I get so LONELY.  Instead of going all the way to Cherokee where I won't be able to walk the casino, maybe we can go the one twenty minutes from my house that's equally as huge but you'll be WITH ME when I have to sit down because I CAN'T BREATHE.  I don't like it when YOU are down.  It makes ME feel bad.

I swear my mother could give a Jewish mother from the sixties a master class in how to successfully throw a guilt trip.  Any one of the mothers on sitcoms from that era have absolutely NOTHING on my mom.

And I absolutely CANNOT vent to my friends because they don't have moms anymore so no matter what, even when they say I can vent, I feel like world's most ungrateful person because they're moms have gone on to god and I'm here complaining about mine.  

It is so hard for me to ask for help.  I don't know how and if I manage to  get the words out for one time in my life, I get platitudes.

why doesn't anyone understand that I just need to walk away?  From all of it.  Create a new life in a place that no one knows me and not do this anymore.  What scares me the most is that my mom is 76 this year.  I don't have many more years left with her and when she's gone, I am probably going to do just that: Walk away into the sunset and not one bloody person will be able to find me because I am so over this.

Like I said, I think Mildred dying was the trigger that set off a bomb that's been smoldering for a long time.  I don't even like my job anymore.  Death has always felt like a sinking ship to me.  A sinking ship that drags everyone around it under with no hope of getting back to the surface again.  I usually walk away before death swings his scythe.  But I couldn't this time and this time, it dragged me under and took all the compassion I had because I can't tell you right now that I care about anything.

My job annoys me, my mom annoys me... but here's the kicker, if you tell her you just need space, she gets moody and remember that little goddamn island and me sailing away...?, the fact that my kids refuse to knock before they bust open my door, yeah that annoys me too.  My animals annoy me.  The fact that that fucking kitten has managed to most likely get Satan's mistress pregnant and I'm going to have to deal with that soon annoys me.

I don't have a pastor that I can talk to because Hagwood, not that personable and guess who is good friends with my mom?  Can't talk to anyone in the church because guess who they're ALL good friend with?  Don't have a man that can just give me one of those man hugs that fix shit because I am only a fuck friend.  Derek, on'y wants to fuck me.  Doesn't want that emotion shit.  Donald?  Only wants to fuck me.  Like he won't even read a text I've sent for a whole fucking week.

Fuck this!  Fuck it all!  What the fuck did I do to someone in a past life that this is my penance? I can't find love.  Like he's not out there.  I don't believe any of it anymore.  He's not.  I'm going to die alone.  I am going to be singing all by myself until the day that I can finally finally FINALLY lay down in bed and close my eyes and wake up in a new life.

And please God if I did anything to anyone in THIS life that's going to screw the next life just let me be someones guardian angel of something.  Please don't give me another life like this.  I might just have to fall from grace and defect because damn, it is incredibly had to associate the God that church tells me loves me with any deity that would let this life continue like this.  How can I believe that some unseeing force of whatever WANTS me to be this miserable?  

Just please tell me what did I do?  Why is this my life?  Who did I screw so cosmically over and where can I find them to apologize?

I can't do this much longer.  I just can't...

Growing up

 So I told my mom when I got the new car, it would just mean me having to grow up.  Gone are the days when I can choose not to work until noon or one pm and be off by five.  I have to grow up and take the morning hours so that I can afford the adult car.

To that end, last night I started a new bedtime routine.  I take my pills at nine and go to bed by eleven.  At 10:45 last night I shut down my computer and climbed in bed.  At 11 when the bedtime alarm went off I turned off my phone and rolled over.  Did I go right to sleep? No.  But I didn't give up and go back to my phone I laid there and eventually it was five AM when the rain started.  And then it was 8 am.

I don't feel like I wanted to stay in my bed forever, and I don't feel the least but tired.  I almost kinda hopes that this will become my new normal.  It's not a bad feeling.

But I have to go. It's raining again and that means people in Charlotte will completely forget how to drive. So one must be on her p's and q's today.  Today is the 8 hour day so let's see how this goes.  

Smell ya later... Hey now, you didn't really expect me to jump totally into Adulthood did ya? LOL

Ta!

Why

Why does no one ever listen until you find yourself screaming?  Bald from where you e pulled your hair out not that it matters anywhere because stress is causing it to fall out anyway?  Clothes are falling off of you because you e list so much weight because you don’t even have the desire to eat even enough to keep yourself alive because if you’re alive that means this just continues.

I want to die.

I don’t even want to run away anymore I... I just want to die.

My mom is going in for surgery and as per her usual her being scared that she won’t make it out alive means that she feels like she had full god given permission to treat me like shit.

I am never going to be the daughter she wants.  I don’t call every few hours.  I don’t go visit her.  I don’t make her my number one person all day every day.

During this fucking pandemic shes has closeted herself in her house.  She won’t go anywhere she won’t do anything.  But me, the essential one is supposed to drop everything and run out to Gastonia and visit her.  At no time did it ever dawn on her that she could climb in her car and come see us.  Why?  Because my house is a mess and my lawn is not awesome and it’s such a long way and yada yada bullshit.  I mean, even if she just sat in the driveway to chat isn’t that a reasonable compromise than me trekking out to Gastonia all the damn time?  

This year on her birthday she pretty much demanded we come out to her.  That would have been fine and great since it was her birthday and no one would have minded but doing that meant that three people had to call off work because she wanted us ALL DAY and when I mentioned maybe half the day she pulled the “But it’s my 75th birthday!” Card.

In June I went away with my friends for one weekend and I didn’t call her every night of that mini vacation so by the time I got back she was butthurt  and didn’t want to speak to me.   

I wish it was just my mom this time.  It’s never just my mom. And I’m old enough to realize that my mom only gets under my skin when something else has already broken the skin.

I recently got insurance through my job.  Which is awesome but to maintain it you have to work an average of 35 hours a week and no matter how many times I try to tell them I am tired and hurting and need to keep it at that 35 maybe 40 hours a week, Linda keeps loading me up to the point where last week I hit 58 hours and this week is rolling up on the 50 mark.  I even said I wanted to make Saturday my one day off.  The one day where I could just take it down.  That email was responded to by say lol ok and could I work next Saturday...

I just need it to stop.  All of it.  Stop.

I have runner tendencies and I really feel like the day after I lose my mom people are going to look up and I’m going to be gone.  Slipped away without a word to anyone to a place where I can finally take a deep breath and exhale.  Someplace where no one is constantly nagging me, asking me for anything, or demanding anything from me.

Someplace where only those who have been paying attention will even think to look.

Away.

I guess she's gone

So I'm guessing Roxie is gone.  No goodbye to me or anything.  Not even a random bag of Candy Corn left on my desk.

But I guess that's okay too.

So I'm pretty sure I'm ready to talk about it without crying too much and if I or she talked about it I apologize for repeating myself (Ourselves?). But Monday night was unofficially the last time I will ever set foot in a Pizza Hut again.

Monday, and understand that this is the last night that Roxie and I were together, we get this call from a friend at another hut telling us that the manager there was telling someone how he was taking over Arboretum the next day.  That was our store.  She called us to warn us that we were getting fired.  So we called Brad who, of course, sent us to voicemail but answered the "Am I getting fired?" (Because he refused to acknowledge the DID diagnosis) and he answered with "no but we need to talk tomorrow". Our response was that we were off tomorrow.  Never once did we ask if we could meet Wednesday or anything and never once did he offer to meet us somewhere Tuesday.

Wednesday morning, I woke up.  Just me.  Roxie was there but she was chilling.  It was a day off so she wasn't needed. I could feel her but not to the point where she was in any way in control.  And I spent the day cleaning and doing laundry and whatnot.  Brad texted and asked me to meet him at the Bojangles behind Mountain Island at 930 am.  I asked is this a meeting I had to dress in uniform for.  He said yes, I said okay.

Wednesday Morning, again, I woke up.  But instead of knowing Roxie was there, I didn't.  I even sat in the car and asked her if she wanted to do this or did she want me to do this and I got no answer.  None whatsoever so I figured if I needed her to handle this she'd come out.

I was wrong.  Roxie apparently decided it was time for me to start living and handling shit all on my own.  Admittedly I still kinda low key resent her for that but in a way, I can't really blame her because I know now, that I was hiding behind her.  Anyway, I walked into he restaurant and brad came in shortly after.  Without preamble he slid a sheet in front of me and told me in the most clinical and cold voice that I have EVER heard that I was being demoted to a shift leader.  Not assistant manager not being given the help I need.  Not even going to be working with the guy that said he was taking over my store. I was being demoted and sent back to prosperity.  The store I was shot at over some damn chicken wings.  And I was being demoted to a pay rate lower than that that I had hired my own shift leads at.

Understand that at this point they have more than doubled my rent, taken away my food stamps and for days I had been living without water because I couldn't afford the bill.  Not once did Brad ask me if everything was okay.  He's over there every damn day asking if Diamond was okay and texting her all the time but never once did he ask me if I was okay to which I would have probably not said yes for the first time.

Not only was he sending me back to the store I was shot at, he was cutting my pay in half if not more and telling me that sometimes I'd even be a driver.

I cried for Roxie.  I signed his paper because I thought I could do it and maybe then I thought I could do but I signed it and left.  I got in the car and I begged for Roxie to answer me but all I got was silence so I went to housing and showed them and then I went to Kelley who reactivated me as a Keeper.  So didn't have a gap job wise.

And then I went home and commenced drinking.  You don't need to know the gory details of it but apparently I am a very... uh... social drunk and called a lot of people.  In the end, Kat had to come from her job and put me to bed.  Also... Apparently Roxie said goodbye to her.  She said that I had been asleep for awhile but I looked her in the eyes and said Thank you for helping her, I can sleep now.  So Roxie said goodbye someone.

Not that I'm not used to it.  Usually when Roxie goes away for long periods of time she doesn't say goodbye in the traditional sense.  I usually get what I feel like is a random hug and then she's gone and I don't know when she'll be back.  If she'll be back.  How to bring her back.

This episode in "Down the Rabbit hole" has taught me one thing though.....  As a person, you expect certain people to always be there and some others to at least not run away but more than two of the people that I had hoped would at least try to help me, ran.  And I don't mean ran with small letters I mean RAN with capital bold letters.  One of whom I, Claudette, really liked.  And honestly, I think him running away hurts more than Roxie going away because I know one day, Roxie will be back back but him, he, he won't be because I think I'm smart enough to realize now that when the chips are down, he will probably cash out and walk away from the table.  And I don't think I can feel that hurt anymore.  Realizing that he could do that as coldly as Brad and his meeting hurt almost as bad as Brad and his meeting and I can't feel that way ever again.  I don't want to feel that way ever again.  Either you are there for it all or not there at all.  I forgive him though.    If I had readers out here, I would ask if it's possible to even feel like a friend to him but I don't have readers.  Silly Dette, Readers are for popular people! LOL.

I mean, can you call someone that drops you that bad a friend?  Can you?

One friend gave me his honest open opinion about the whole thing and I respect him.  He's still my friend.  I may be feeling a bit salty towards him but he's always been my friend, he's always given his whole opinion and he's never lied.  So yeah, he's a friend.

I have to think on the first guy.  Probably to be blogged about another time because that's going to have to be a conference between my head and my heart and right now, my heart is on crutches hobbling to and fro and my head is being stubborn and telling my heart to suck it up while it goes through stacks of paperwork for the last few weeks trying to sort out what the hell just happened.  How we went down the rabbit hole how we called out Roxie, how the last few weeks just happened because I'm going to be brutally honest, There are somethings that Roxie did that I have no memory of except snatches of conversations she may have wanted me to hear or text messages between her and whoever.  Right now my brain feels like the most overworked secretary in the world.

But I'm able to function again, so Roxie, if you're out in the ether and you surface long enough to read this, Thank you and I love you because if you hadn't been here these last few weeks I'm pretty sure id be dead right now.  So thank you.  Thank you for being the Wonder Woman you apparently always have been.

Ciao Bellas. Have to take the minion to work.

R- Let’s talk about sex baby...

Let’s talk about that for a second.  

I mean.  I just stood in the mirror looking at this body for like twenty minutes.  It’s got some curves and some dents but it’s not bad.  The boobs are about palm sized and not hard, the nipples are kinda responsive.

It’s not a bad body, so why does no one want it?  We need to work on that.  Yeah.  

I wonder...

When people decide to kill themselves, do they contemplate it for awhile, then decide they aren’t going to do it, then decide to change their lives, then something snaps and boom?  Life over.

Problems for them done, problems for everyone else just beginnng?  Like is there a thought process?  Stages?

I’m pretty convinced that if there are stages, I’m at the life affirmation, deciding to turn it all around stage.  That being said I wonder what stage is next?  The one when you get extremely angry because you realize your ass is stuck?  The one where you jus decide fork it?

I wish I could just kill me and not Roxie because it’s me that’s depressed.  She’s not depressed.  She’s angry that I can’t pull myself out of this depression.  Not even having probably the best weekend of my life can pull me completely out of this hole.

And believe me when I say it was the best weekend I have had in so long I can’t remember a better weekend.  But I was only halfway out of my hole when I had to go back to work and got blamed for shit that I wasn’t even there for.

My inventory was off.  No prep was done.  Truck was still in the floor.  The computer was frozen. There was expired product in the walk in because of the two managers there, not one person realized that he sixteenth was two forking days ago and that the tenth was over a week ago.

But it’s my fault.  Because I’m the general manager.

I’m both relieved and terrified to say that it took Roxie point five seconds to decide fork the cohabitation thing and shove me back in my black hole of nothing which is oddly becoming quite a comforting place since nothing and no one can seem to hurt me there.

Well the cheese can.  The cheese and the hut can hurt me no matter if I’m in my deep dark blackness, at the beach frolicking in the waves, trudging through sand dunes tonsee a ighthouse that admittedly was really pretty, or even having a drink for my goddamn birthday.  The cheese can hurt me.
Something happened to all the wings.  I wasn’t there but it was my fault that we only had three bags this morning.

Have you ever seen two personalities fight over a text?  I assure you it’s actually kind of funny.  I mean when my ass began to get cheeed this morning I was like "but I wasn’t even here how is this my fault?" But Roxie was all like "You can kiss the part of my ass that I haven’t wiped after eating four day old Mexican food!" We typed the response text so many times and deleted it to rewrite it, that we actually got a text in the middle of it asking if we had an answer.

Sadly or maybe not sadly, an edited version of Roxie’s text is what got sent...  the boss realized later in when she went off on the other managers for ignoring her but sitting up and clapping for the batshit crazy phsycho manager that is allowed to quit every damn day for two weeks and still have a store show.  I swear.  Roxie’s pissed off was felt in like six stores and the dm’s office/car today.  She asked three times if anyone had any wings and no one bothered to answer.  So finally she asked if she could be taken out of the chat because she was tired of being ignored.  That she was always there if they had a question that she might be able to answer but it was amazing how when she needed one goddamn answer suddenly everyone’s phone was dead. She was immediately answered with no no one had any spare wings and the dm telling her to order some from the warehouse and he would personally go pick it up.

I can’t say how I came out of my black hole that Roxie places me in for my own protection but I’m out.  Probably because she worked hard to correct the mistakes in the store today and when she’s tired here are less barriers for me to get through.

It’s okay Roxie.  You sleep now.  Tomorrow I will see the doctor and try not to sound like a blubbering mess that’ll get us locked up in an asylum when I try to explain how stressed we are.  I never get to say this to you, but I got you.  For right now.  I got this.  You rest.

I’m not out of the hole that threatening to swallow us both, but I’m out of it enough that for this one time, I can hold you and tell you it’s going to be okay for tonight.

It’s an aside, but everyone knows that losing someone very dear to them is horrible and there’s levels to your healing process but telling someone to stop complaining that they looked ugly on the morning of their fortieth birthday because every birthday is a gift and her husband didn’t get that gift is not okay.  Not okay like at all and the person who pulled that stunt is so very very lucky that both of us have an immense amount of respect and didn’t go off in her for it because it was done to us at the worst possible time today.


I’m tired now.  I think going t bed is the best possible thing I could do.

Ciao Bellas

Not waking up

It’s hard to show who’s typing right now because both of us are wondering what hat it be like if we’d never been born?  What what it’d have been like if we never split into two and what would it be like if we took the rest of this bottle of clonazapam and a handful of tradodone and just... didn’t wake up...

It’d be like going to sleep right?  Dying? Leaving all the pain behind and for once not feeling like we’re no good enough, not pretty enough, not competent enough, or just to put it simply not enough...

The mother unit would be broken, there’s no doubt about that. But unlike us, she has God to turn to. He still talks to her.  Or maybe it’s that she still talks to him.  We’re not really sure how the religious thing works anymore.

The kids would be mad and sad but they’d have their dad and Gabby to cling to.  He’d get to be the only parent whichbhes wanted for as long as e can remember, she’d get to be mom to all of them.  Well probably just Livy and Jojo.  We don’t think she really ever cared for Kayla but we did and that was enough.

Kay would blame Pizza Hut and we feel that somehow this would break her more than it would break anyone else.  For that we apologize.

The father unit.... ell bless him but he’s just come back into our lives and he’s never been aware that there’s wonof us and he’d probably say I was Gods plan and the mother unit would finally beat he shit out of him because there is no plan that her God could have that would rob her of her baby.

The Hut wouldn’t feel a damn thing.  They’d replace us without a second thought although if we ever did this there would be a note telling one and all that he Hut precipitated this cation of cowardice.

Of all the people we would feel for... not sorry... but feel in our eternal soul... would be the friend units that have always been there and have bent over backwards to try and pull us out of our holes.  They have talked us down, talked us up, takes to us t our lower points, laughed with us at our higher points.  For them we would probably hate what we’d done.

But we’d be free.  And maybe finally the two different people that we are.  Claudette could see what Roxie looks like and vice versa because we thing if we ever got separated we might look like very different.

We apologize.  But this is something hat we’ve been thinking more and more about every day that life tells us we aren’t good enough.  We apologize if we ever do this but the pain is getting too much and we can’t hold on much longer.  We’ve been holding on as long as we can and pretty soon our grip is going to slip and when it does....

We are truly sorry.