-SoundEcho walks into garage/den blowing heat off a fresh cup of coffee-
-Dad/Garage guru, sees fresh cup of coffee and gets all excited-
Dad/Garage guru: "Why, you made a fresh pot of coffee! Aren't you a chrome plated sweetheart!"
SoundEcho: "Uhm, yea, I did make a pot of coffee, but I didn't bring you any."
Dad/Garage guru: "Well, fine then, remove the chrome plating!"
SoundEcho: "Well, at least I'm still a sweetheart!"
Over a week later, and the bruises are still showing. (we're ignoring the fact that bruises take their sweet ass time healing on my skin) I'm going with my moms advice to "wait until the bruises are completely gone before you send her any type of reply".
I still haven't heard anything from her, except the text message last thursday afternoon. (the one where she said her husband TOLD her what happened and she understands if I hate her.) I just want to clarify that I don't hate her. Hate doesn't begin to even explain anything to do with the emotions I felt the days following the 'incident'. I want her to know this. It's a terrible burdon thinking someone hates you, when infact, they don't. Especially if the person knows the true definition of hate. (I do. I don't know if she does, but I do, and I know that its a highly misused word. At least the way I was raised) I also want to know what her husuband told her of the events.
Okay, moving on.
I think I've been able to convince my yankee manager at work to call me "C.B" instead of the grossly overused pet name that I only allow family and close friends to call me.
Now, if I can just get the cute 19yr old country boy to stop calling me that. (he insists he's quoting a movie... i'd believe him except I know that movie, and I did NOT appriciate Chistopher Walkin saying my moms petname for me in his highly creepy Christopher Walkin voice)
Tonight, I am having a girly night. Dinner at a crappy chain eating establishment, followed by the quintesential chick flick. (bride wars)
We don't usually go to the crappy chain place, but we're both between paydays, and she has a gift card. We're going to eat fairly early, and then go to the 'late' showing of the movie (9:45)
We have a LOT to talk about, we always do, because we go weeks w/o talking. Nights out with my girly friend are awesome.
Oh. My ex called last night. I wasn't in the room, so he left voicemail. I was busy playing 'scene it' on the 360 with my bro (and oddly, my mom joined in...) I forgot that the ex wanted to try to be friends. I was perfectly content with seeing him the one time and then going on my little way.
I spoke with my store manager last night. He said he will call the WA store on Monday to see about if I can transfer. I am off Monday and Tuesday, so you can bet my ass will be calling the store on Monday to see if he actually did it or not. I have no idea if I'll be able to transfer. So much is riding on it, and to be honest I have pretty low hope. If theyre store and hour situation is anything like my current stores hour situation, then I won't be able to transfer. Even 20 hours a week, which is what i'm currently getting (and i'm lucky to even get THAT) would be welcome. It would be SOMETHING.
I need my w2. NOW. however, BBB always mails their w2's out, and we never receive them until the end of the month. As soon as I get that sucker, i'm filing my freaking taxes. I don;t think anyone realizses how broke I am. I thought I was broke last year... nope. I need my tax money to finance this trip/move.
All right, I'm out.
Watching the slow decay, first written 2. Jan. 2009
4 months ago