Like Cinderella, Without The Happy Ending

Ugh.  It’s Saturday and plenty of people are out having a great day — shopping, visiting museums and art galleries, taking cake decorating classes, etc.

I am stuck at home, where it is COLD (because the roommate is afraid of using electricity and the man just likes being cold), and I’m listening to the roommate make unfunny jokes about Paula Deen.  At least he tries, I guess.  The man has to work, which is a mixed blessing.  Being somewhere else means he can’t bitch at me about going to a bakery yesterday or not having any money or not having put away the laundry yet.  It also means I can’t go anywhere.  But I probably wouldn’t be able to take the car even if he were here, so maybe his absence is really a net gain.

Truth is, I’m aggravated because today is the first day of Saturday classes at the local community college.  I want to be attending school and instead I’m stuck in this fucking cold-ass house with nothing to do.  Well, that’s not quite true.  I could unload and reload the dishwasher.  I could sweep and mop the kitchen floor and sanitize the counters.  I could clean out the refrigerator.  I could haul all the laundry upstairs and put it away.  I could organize the desk.  I could vacuum the floors and clean cat hair off the couches.  I could change the cat box.  I could clean bathrooms.  I could haul the man’s 97239743 cups out of the bedroom and wash the sheets.  In other words, I could do a bunch of stuff that I ought to be doing, but instead I’m complaining on the internet about having nothing to do.  When put that way, it’s obvious that I should get to work.  But I’m angry and resentful that my role in life has been diminished to scrubbing shit off toilets (basically in exchange for not having to live under a bridge). 

Besides that, my face is clogged up with a shit ton of snot (AGAIN) and I feel like garbage.  I guess I’m going to go on another smoking-hiatus.  I really can’t afford it, and I’ve always known that it negatively impacts my health.  Of course, that’s assuming I’m sick because of the smoking and not because of my rotten fucking luck.

Back With A Vengeance

Where have I been?  Well, realistically, I can’t imagine that anyone is really asking that because I haven’t written a single interesting thing online since I moved to Texas and my life began to revolve around the ups and downs (mostly downs) of my relationship.  But I have nonetheless been absent, and for whatever reason, I wish to explain.

We have a roommate, see.  I’ve mentioned him before.  I’ve even mentioned (by which I mean, ranted about) how much I dislike said roommate.  Well… said roommate didn’t pay the cable bill.  It’s not that he was late paying the cable bill… It’s that he didn’t pay it.  Twice.  Then he acted surprised when it was cut off.  Then he had the gall to try and jew us out of the money he needed to get it reconnected, even though we had already paid our share.  (And I do apologize for the crass ethnic slur.  It’s just that I can’t think of a better word, and no, “screw” won’t suffice.  It’s also possible that it crossed my mind to irritate a certain individual who occasionally checks in on my blog and who, frankly, I wish would drop off the face of the earth.  And no, it’s not because this individual is Jewish.  It’s because she’s a cunt.)

I also apologize for using the word cunt.  It’s not something I normally say.  I also don’t normally make apologies on my blog.  Perhaps I’ve been abducted by aliens.

Anyway, the cable & internet have been shut off for a while.  I’ve been quite bored, to say the least.  Other than applying for shitty bottom-of-the-barrel jobs, I have been… uh… Well, I read New Moon.  And I’m now reading Yes Man by Danny Wallace.  Since when do I read books that relate to new theatre releases?  I try not to be an uber-snob (as anyone who knows I read the Stephanie Plum novels by Janet Evanovich can attest), but generally I do prefer to be a bit ahead of the curve.

A few weeks ago, I interviewed for a job and declared that if I didn’t get it, I was going to throw myself off a cliff.  That was a dramatic statement, quite obviously, but when time passed without a phone call (or a RETURN phone call), I found the idea of offing myself quite fantastic.  The reason?  Well, they were hiring 20 people to do the same job.  It was a job several levels below what I did for the Demons (in fact, I supervised such people and my coworkers and I made many references to monkeys, typewriters, and Kafka… what egos we had…), but there was no reason I shouldn’t have been hired.  The idea that I wasn’t in the TOP TWENTY candidates for a job I knew inside and out was, well, more than a little disturbing.

I’ve been wandering around feeling hollow and depressed for a few weeks, but yesterday I finally heard back from the company.  I’m not rejected.  In fact, I’m one of their top candidates.  It’s just that the project has been pushed back, and I can expect to hear from them in two weeks.  This, I can deal with.  I’m quite familiar with the volatile nature of project-based work.  As long as I haven’t actually been rejected for the monkey-typewriter job, I can continue to look at myself in the mirror without mauling the mirror.  Or myself.

Meanwhile, I’m hoping to hear back from them before I end up behind the counter at McDonald’s.  Not only is that not my dream job, but exposure to the mere sight of mayonnaise makes me throw up.  In fact, I am queasy just thinking about it.  I couldn’t tell you why.  I eat whipped cream and sour cream and alfredo sauce, so it’s not “white foods” in particular.  It’s also not anything to do with the typical “fast food condiments,” because while I have no particular love of ketchup or mustard, I can say with certainty that they do not make my stomach turn.  It’s just mayonnaise.  And Miracle Whip.

While I am on the subject of places that people work that also involve food, I’d like to mention that I went to the most fabulous cake shop with my friend today.  It was lovely and quaint and I had the most wonderful, decadent chocolate cupcake that I have ever experienced in life.  After looking at an album of special occasion cakes, my friend and I decided that $200 was a bit steep for her daughter’s third birthday cake, but that perhaps we should try our hand at baking cakes.  Not like PW’s chocolate cake or my friend’s Pineapple Dream Cake (which is quite dreamy), but professional-style celebration cakes.  She’s going to supply the mixer and pans.  I guess I’ll supply the eggs.

Warning: Self-Indulgent Whining Ahead

I know that I’m lucky I don’t live under a bridge right now.

But I really, really miss my old house.

I hate where I live right now.  I despise it.  I’d burn the place down, if I were less in control of my emotions.

I can’t stand the roommate.  He’s driving me insane.  His nervous tics are making ME nervous.  Every time I hear his key in the door, I find myself wishing I could just vanish.  When I pull in the driveway and his car is gone, I’m elated.  When it’s there, I get upset.  I realize that I am making mountains out of molehills, that he hasn’t done anything truly horrendous, but I’ve just reached the point where I can’t stand being in the same house with him at any given time.

I don’t have any serious beefs with the house itself, other than that I hate dragging laundry upstairs, which is a relatively minor thing.  And the backyard could stand to have a little more grass, I guess.  And my neighbors could definitely stand to get rid of their yappy-ass fucking asshole dogs.  And the kitchen could stand to be about four times as big.  But those are minor things, in the grand scheme of it all.  I could be happy content here without the roommate and his belongings and his nervous tics.

I miss barbecuing and inviting friends over at the old house.  I miss my garden tub and walk-in closet.  I miss having more cabinet/pantry space than I could fill up.  I miss our large, very old & very used refrigerator (bought on Craigslist) that I hated at the time.  I miss my back yard, and my front yard, and the green belt in the middle of my cul-de-sac and the trees.  I miss tiki torches.  I miss having a home office of my very own.  I miss the built-in bookshelf in the living room.  I miss having a bedroom for the child.  I miss my furniture, especially my huge, comfortable couch and loveseat.  I miss the air hockey table.  I was surprisingly good at air hockey.

This place could be made into somewhere I’d want to be, but it won’t, because the roommate isn’t going away.  If he were gone and we had the master bedroom, we’d also have the garden tub and walk-in closet.  If he were gone, we could invite friends over without the ensuing awkwardness.  If he were gone, his stuff would be gone, and though I can’t get my old stuff back, I’m aware that it’s just stuff and can be replaced with more stuff that I like.

I want a proper home, without wacky roommates and yapping asshole dogs.  And I want to go to school.  And to make those things happen, I want a job.

Dumbassery

I’ve learned something new today, and here it is:  For all the ego I have about being relatively bright, I am a fucking dumbass.

I took this quiz, which challenges you to name as many countries as you can within five minutes.  They have to be real soverein nations and the names have to be spelled correctly.  I am told that the average person gets 58 (out of a possible 195).  I only got 37.  If you want to actually take the quiz, stop reading now…

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 The countries I was able to name were:

United States, Canada, China, France, Russia, Mexico, Germany, Japan, Spain, Brazil, Australia, Iraq, Iran, India, Sweden, Argentina, Chile, Norway, Finland, South Korea, North Korea, Poland, Switzerland, Pakistan, Vietnam, Nigeria, Kenya, Mongolia, Venezuela, Haiti, Taiwan, Dominican Republic, Syria, Luxembourg, Kuwait, Ghana, Mozambique

The ones I didn’t get by by gosh should have gotten are:

Italy. United Kingdom. Egypt. Iceland. Ireland. New Zealand. Greece. Denmark. Israel. Afghanistan. Saudi Arabia. Cambodia.

Granted, I took a two-minute phone call while the timer was running, but my heart wasn’t really in that phone call… I was thinking hard about countries.  And I still only got 37.  What the fuck?!?

Resolution

I just got back from a job interview.  It was for a data entry position that pays very little money (but more than minimum wage, and by more than just a quarter or two).  They are hiring 20 people for this particular position.  I’ve decided that if I can’t edge my way into one of 20 low-paying jobs that only require one to type in excess of 35 WPM, I am just going to throw myself off a cliff.

Is It Fucked Up?

Brought to you by boingboing.

Ranting

This has been an uneventful day.  I was angry, so I slept for a huge chunk of the afternoon.  Then I forced myself to learn 10-key by touch, took a walk, went to the grocery store, cooked dinner, and practiced this 10-key business.  I have a job interview on Monday for a data entry position, for which I am completely qualified aside from a lack of proficiency in 10-key typing.

I can’t really say that I recommend learning such a skill two days before you are to be tested on it, then cramming.  It’s an inefficient and ineffective way to develop a skill.  10-key typing is actually a college class required for secretarial certificates, and the course lasts at least a quarter, which is much longer than two days.  That said, I need the job badly enough that I am trying like hell.  I’ve been running through the drills on this website, and so far my accuracy is quite good but my speed leaves something to be desired.  I’m going to have to bank on my alphanumeric score and just hope that accuracy counts for something on 10-key.

I am desperate enough at this point that I would straight-up do some immoral shit if it would guarantee me a job.  Sleep with the boss?  Yes.  Take out a contender?  Quite possibly.  We are having such a hard time getting by right now, and I feel like a worthless piece of shit because I’m not contributing (note: the man and the roommate help with this).  I’ve always been highly independent, and I’ve always been the one that helps my friends and family, and now I am… nothing.  My resume and work history count for nothing.  I don’t get to do things I want to do, ever, no matter how cheap they are.  Even trips to the bookstore are pretty much banned because of the dollar it would cost in gas, and mostly (I think) because it’s something *I* want to do.  I can’t even get the antidpressants that I need to keep me sane because I can’t afford to visit the doctor.  I really am actually about to lose my shit in a major way, like the type of ordeal that will land me in the loony bin.  And a job would help.  Nothing spectacular.  Just a regular full-time job.  I can file, I can type, I’m good on the phone, customers always like me, and THERE’S NO EFFING REASON WHY I SHOULDN’T BE ABLE TO HAVE A JOB.

I’m Going To Mark Myself As A Real Asshole Today

I was reading this article about how the Dallas police department has raided an apartment complex where an officer was fatally shot.  While I am sorry that the officer died, because I’m sorry when anyone dies, I can honestly say that I blame the DPD for his death far more than I do the man who shot him.

Here’s why: “Police Chief David Kunkle said the officers serving the warrant were attempting a ‘ruse to try to get the suspects to the door without announcing that they were police officers.’”

So… You know the complex is a bad place.  You know that it’s a drug den and that it’s filled with criminals.  And the way you handle a sting is to send officers in pretending to be someone else? 

If I were a fugitive and I were dumb enough to answer my door to what I thought was a vacuum salesperson or what the fuck ever, and I found out that it was the police instead, I don’t know that I’d be hotheaded enough to actually shoot them, but I would be mightily tempted.

Now that the officer has been killed, they have continued their brilliant offensive on the complex by swarming it.  I quote: “Shortly before noon, at least 15 patrol cars arrived at the Oak Wood Place Apartments. Officers swarmed in to knock on doors, checking for possible arrest warrants and attempting to remove anyone who didn’t belong in the area.”

Isn’t that just a little reminiscent of the Gestapo?  Anyone?!?!?

Law enforcement in this country has gone way off the fucking chain.  For instance, in Dallas, if you are pulled over and found to be driving without insurance, they will TOW YOUR CAR.  This is not a joke.  It’s fucking ridiculous.  The police are overstepping their bounds, and they’re allowed to do so by a fearful populace of idiots.

Gah.

Another Monday

So I managed to get sick… again.  Some little stomach bug.  The worst part, other than having been one type of sick or another for nearly a month, is that I gave it to the child as well.

Cookie update:  They were passable, but not what I expected.  It seems that adding the white chocolate chips changes the chemical makeup of the cookie, or some such nonsense.  The cookie I was trying to create can’t exist, but the one I ended up with was fine, if you’re into the idea of a white chocolate chip snickerdoodle (which I’m not).

I’m fantasizing right now about the day we are able to move out of here.  This seems silly and petty, but I want to be left alone right now, and my roommate won’t stop talking to me.  About everything on the planet.  Cat food.  Lentils.  Jerry Bruckheimer.  He’s just trying to be nice, but I’m going insane. 

Update: Oh, I get it.  He’s been talking to me all morning in an attempt to work up the courage to have a conversation about when we’re moving out.  Our lease is up at the end of March and he’d like us to stay until the beginning of August.

In a nutshell, NO.  NONONONONONONONONONONONONONONO.  That is the most awful idea I’ve ever heard.

And now, to completely change the subject, I am going to participate in Menu Plan Monday:

1) Monday – Meat loaf, mashed potatoes (with skins on because I’m lazy), sauteed green beans, corn bread
2) Tuesday – Fried potatoes with sliced smoked sausage, corn, salad
3) Wednesday – “Cheeseburger” flavored store-brand Hamburger Helper, big salad
4) Thursday – PW’s Chicken Spaghetti, salad
5) Friday – Enchiladas, possibly.  Or a Stouffer’s lasagna, which is basically enchiladas Italian style, but with a lot less effort.  This depends on how lazy I’m feeling and whether I can find a decent sale on meat & cheese.

I grew up eating ground beef probably five nights out of seven, because it was affordable.  I can make dozens of dishes starring ground beef, but I try to avoid serving it more than once a week because the man doesn’t care for it.  It seems he grew up eating real food and prefers that, which I can’t really fault.  But we are broke this week, at least for the next several days, and I got a 5-lb package of ground beef for $8.95.

And My Enemies Call Me Nothing, Cause They’re Dead

I keep baking cookies and they keep disapearing.  This pleases me.

I have a terrific snickerdoodle recipe that is a “clone” of the one used by The Great American Cookie Company.  It’s big and soft and delicious, and it turns out that the “secrets” involve chilling the dough prior to baking, using a specific amount of dough per cookie (2.5 tablespoons) and baking them at a lower temperature (300) for a longer amount of time (12-14 minutes).  The man has asked me to turn the snickerdoodles into white chocolate chip cookies by adding the white chips.  I think this is bizarre because snickerdoodles are basically sugar cookies rolled in a mixture of cinnamon and sugar, and I don’t typically associate sugar cookies with chips of any variety.  Something about cream of tartar and white chocolate doesn’t gel in my mind.  But whatever.  He’s a non-cookie-fan, so if I’ve stumbled upon something he’ll get excited about, I reckon I will give it a try.

I am also going to try to use the aforementioned “secrets” to make M&M cookies that are big and soft and delicious.  I’m going to use my regular recipe as opposed to a snickerdoodle recipe, but am going to alter the cookie size and baking time to hopefully achieve awesome results.  I will report back on this.

Other than baking cookies and cleaning up messes, I haven’t been up to much.  Migraines have been kicking my ass.  I did get some minor grocery shopping accomplished today, and I made dinner, then cleaned up the kitchen.

When I went into the kitchen to cook, I discovered that EVERY PAN IN THE HOUSE WAS DIRTY.  And not just “used,” but DIRTY, like in need of scrubbing with elbow grease.  What the fuck is up with that? 

I so totally cannot wait to move into a new place.  That won’t happen for a couple of months yet, but I still like to drive around and look for “For Rent” signs.  The whole roommate thing is not for me.  Granted, I got a batshit crazy one, but I’m honestly not sure there’s anyone on the planet I could successfully roommate with.

I’ve been watching Big Love here lately.  Obsessively.  I’m currently on episode 22 of 24 that exist so far.  I think that maybe polygamy is a good idea.  Maybe, I said.