Holiday Party Pains In The Ass

People are so shitty… It makes you wonder why you would even bother trying to be nice.

My boss tried to put together a holiday party, seeing as the GM and the company aren’t doing anything for it this year. She bought Qdoba for the office and bought everyone a silver ornament with Swarovski crystals and a bottle of wine. She also organized a totally optional gift exchange, and was just trying to do something nice. My boss doesn’t even like Christmas. It’s a stressful time of year for she and I, and she just wanted to do something nice for the office girls to show her appreciation for them.

In particular, this one chick was just fucking miserable. She’s on a diet she swears is going to get her into a size 6, which is fine, but to avoid eating the Qdoba she intentionally scheduled an appointment so she left during the party. On top of that, my boss went out of her way to find this woman a legit diet wine to go with her diet. Not only was she completely unappreciative, she fucking gave the wine away immediately, and the ornament because she’s moving so she didn’t want a small ornament with her initial.

I get not wanting presents. I’ve gotten many I don’t want, and the POLITE thing to would have been to take them home and then throw them away.

I know it shouldn’t be a huge deal, but this woman is fucking rude all the time. She has no fucking decorum, and my boss has defended this for her before when she’s snapped at someone she shouldn’t. At some point you have to watch what fucking hand you bite, cuz the lady that signs your paychecks and defends your dumbass when you fuck up is NOT the one you should be hurting the feelings of.

Also, can I just say I’m so fucking sick of hearing about my other coworker being homeless? Which she’s not, really. She met a guy online, and never spoke to him, but decided he was her fiance, and then sent him all her rent money, got kicked out of her apartment, and she’s crashing on an air mattress with some people from her church. She’s lucky she’s got nice church people to help her out, cuz I’m sick of her dumbass. WHO FALLS FOR THAT?! Furthermore, she ran around here asking everyone for money, and then when it all went to shit she ran around here telling everyone she’s homeless. We fucking know why you’re homeless, you did it to yourself, and I don’t fucking care anymore.

Also, there’s the new chick, who quite noticeably hates working in here. I’d tell her to get out and find a new job, but the pregnant chick goes on maternity leave at the end of the month and I need the new chick to help out. When preggers gets back, whatever…

Pregnant chick is irritating, too. She went months being sad and angry, then happy and told everyone she was pregnant, and now she’s moody, but also I’m discovering all the things she doesn’t understand about her job. I will never get someone who can do a job and have no idea WHY they do something. How do you do something daily and not know WHY you do it? It’s crazy.

I guess I take all this shit personally because making my boss’ life hard means they’re making my mom’s life hard. That’s the downside of working with family… I take it personally. I could have brutally murdered the rude ass diet chick today, and strung her organs around the office as Christmas decoration. Because I know how hard my mom tries to show these girls she appreciates them, even though half of them don’t understand their job, the other half doesn’t do their shit right, and all of them are fucking drama llamas… and all my mom did was try to makeup for the short-comings of the company, since the GM has gone all Scrooge McDuck and just wants to swim in a vault of coin instead of show any appreciation for his workers that he doesn’t talk to or know anything about, myself included.

It’s all just so shitty. I’ve been trying SO HARD to get a little festive this year. I put up both my little black Christmas trees. I wrapped presents in actual wrapping paper this year. I bought cards to send out. I decorated my desk at work. Christmas isn’t a fun time of year for me, and I generally hate it, but I’m trying SO FUCKING HARD this year, and people just ruin it.

Mom and I are supposed to go to Zoo Lights tonight… trying to be festive, since we’ve both been crazy sick and haven’t wanted to do much of anything… and I dunno if we’re gonna make it there. I’m not sure we’ll even enjoy it if we do. The perk of not working with family is that when you see each other it’s a vacation from work… mom and I are just a continuation of work… a reminder of the shitty place we have to go everyday in spite of hating everyone we work with.

I just wanted to try to have a nice Christmas this year… but I don’t think it’s going to happen.


The Selfie Generation Hates Themselves

Generations are interesting.
Briefly, here are the Western World’s generations and a few facts about them.

  • The Lost Generation – born 1883-1900
    • These people fought in WWI
    • They were pretty nomadic, without a sense of “home”
    • They were oft skeptical of authority
    • Many of the soldiers came back in pieces or with PTSD, or both
    • They were opposed to Prohibition (their parents pushed for prohibition)
    • These are the people that got wasted in speak easy bars and enjoyed hedonism in the 20s
  • The Greatest Generation – born 1901-1924
    • WWII Vets
    • Grew up in Great Depression
    • Big on personal responsibility
    • Hard Workers
    • Humble personalities
    • These are the grandparents some of us had that hid money in mattresses and stock piled everything
  • Silent Generation – born 1925-1945
    • Korean and Vietnam War Vets
    • Grew up to work hard and shut up
    • Time Magazine called them unimaginative, withdrawn, unadventurous, and cautious
    • These people were marred by war, and haunted by the wars of their parents
  • Baby Boomers – born 1946-1964
    • Literally, people came back from war, banged a lot, and we ended up with the Boomers
    • Also called the Me Generation
    • Boomers rejected war culture for industrial culture and achievement culture
    • Big on Living to Work
    • Independent
    • Goal-Oriented
    • Competitive
    • They literally went from being hippies to being like, okay we have to be adults now
      • so if you know a boomer, they prolly have great stories they’ll never wanna tell you
  • Generation X – born 1965-1984ish
    • Like the boomers, gen x rejected their parents’ culture and made up their own
    • Value diversity
    • Value home and family life
    • Big on a sense of community
    • Adaptable
    • Also independent
    • Pretty good with tech
  • Millennials – born 1984ish-2001ish
    • Gen Y, The Selfie Generation, Generation Me, Trophy Kids
    • Very outwardly confident
    • Detached from institutions
    • More into networks of people
    • Very social
    • Raised to embrace diversity
    • Less good with tech from a technical standpoint, but very dependent on user friendly tech

Now, usually in a chart like this you can trace yourself backwards… A Millennial’s parents will be Gen Xers, and their grandparents will be Boomers, etc etc etc.
My life is not like that.

I am a Millennial, which I HATED for years, because the Gen Xers and the Boomers analyzed Millennials and decided we were narcissistic spoiled children. It wasn’t until fairly recently that it’s been pointed out that this assessment was due to the analysis of Millennials coming from white upper class males. (Fun Fact: Most medical and social research is performed on white upper class men. That’s why it’s so new for us to recognize what a heart attack looks like in a woman, and what kinds of people really live in lower class neighborhoods, and even how people of different races differ in aspects of disease.) My mother is not Gen X. Not by a long shot. She’s a Boomer, born smack in the middle of the spectrum of years. As a result, I got a different kind of upbringing than other Millennials.

So, if Boomers raised Gen X, what happens when a Boomer raises a Gen Xer amongst Millennials?
Well you get an independent, tech savvy person with a lack of interest in family as much as a need for a good social network. You also get someone with a drive to do something with their lives, but no idea what it would be or how to start.

So that’s me. Most of my friends are not like this. I have a few with Boomer parents, but usually because they’re the youngest of three, and having siblings kind of changes the nature of being raised by a Boomer, since you’re also partially raised by your siblings. A lot goes into creating the ideal generation example. Lol.

Anyways, my point is that the Selfie Generation hates themselves, so let’s get to that.

So prior to the rise of social networks, no one gave a flying fuck if you liked yourself. Your parents didn’t tell you that all that mattered was your view of you, if you sucked at something no one tried to spare your feelings, and the concept of liking yourself was just something that might be in the back of your mind, but not something people talked about. The important thing is that OTHER people liked you.

Statistically, if you’re likable you will do better in life than someone who is not likable. I know that seems weird, because corporate big wigs are pricks, but they most likely didn’t start that way. Someone had to like them enough to give them a raise. Someone had to like them enough to give them a chance on a business loan. Someone had to like them enough to keep working for them long enough to help them build an empire. That’s how business works, because that’s how human nature works. From an evolutionary standpoint you’re not supposed to like most people, and because they’re unattractive or weak or sick or whatever. Our ancestors, the shitty god awful animals they were, would leave those people to die, or maybe kill them if it benefited them over just waiting for nature to do it.

So, as a human form of adaptation, we developed likable personalities. It’s hard to figure out that humans are idiots, and as such are easily conned. If you’re ugly, fat, poor, or have what’s considered an “uncommon trait” such as being non-hetero, non-cis, or non-comforming to current social standards…. you can totally con people into overlooking that with a good personality.

My favorite thing in the world is when people describe serial killers as likable people.

So, the question is how we got from Boomers, who are competitive as hell, to let’s give everyone a trophy “because everyone’s self esteem matters.”

Social Networks.
That’s my theory.

So we developed the internet. A way to communicate with people all over the world. Then we developed the social network, as a better way to communicate with everyone. The thing about that… is now people were in our lives all the time. Where once a family would go get a portrait made, and go to dinner, and everyone would smile, knowing all the time that when they got home mom would dive head first into a bottle and dad would throw her down some stairs for it before running off with a neighbor to a sleazy motel for the night, as the kids stayed huddled in their rooms… Now we had the internet asking what you were doing. PICTURES OR IT DIDN’T HAPPEN.

So, you post about dinner. You post about the portrait. You post about how happy your family is. Then you look around and feel the weight of that lie. It’s immortalized in staged photos you took seven times to make sure everyone looked genuinely happy, and in the statuses of whatever happy event is happening right now. It grins back at you from the profile picture you see 20 times a day as you see what your friends’ lives look like.

One day is particularly bad. You gained weight, the boss yelled at you, your kids don’t have any interest in talking to you, you think your wife is cheating on you with your neighbor’s wife, and everything just feels like it’s slowly going to fall apart. Surely this is worthy of putting on social media. It’s just a low spot in your otherwise happy life, but you could use the moral support and everyone is always liking your pictures and stuff. So you post:

Having a bad day. 😦

What happens next is that no one supports you, and you’re accused of what we now call vague-booking. No one gives a damn about the troubles in your life.

So this goes on for a while… from AIM to Friendster to MySpace to Facebook and whatever you did after you realized Facebook is no longer the top social network (I got a Tumblr and a Google+, most people went the way of Twitter and Instagram). Gen Xers and Millennials learn to keep the bad shit to themselves, and since we ALL did that, we started to perceive that no one else in the world is experiencing the problems we have.

Yeah, we all have problems. Everyone has a shitty spouse, job, kids… we all have money problems and feel uncertain about the future… but no one advertises that. So from a user standpoint, you’re trying to keep up with people who are perpetually happy and whose lives are perfect.

It’s in all this chaos of feeling shitty about how shitty your life feels when everyone else’s seems amazing that we see the rise of the helicopter parents, and everyone getting a trophy at sports events, and social sensitivity. It’s here that we see the evolution of the concept of loving yourself. That’s not something we see at any other point in time.

(I’ve been writing this too long… so let’s get to the point.)

THE SELFIE GENERATION HATES THEMSELVES and it’s from that self-hatred that we can see all this “love yourself” business sprung up. It’s the sense of loneliness we get from trying to constantly look like life is great so we get plenty of likes on Instagram, and it’s the sense of remorse we feel about being the one that started a family early, or chose a career over putting effort into a love life from a young age. It’s the constant regret, the constant remorse of choices you didn’t make, of what could be you, but is instead someone you know.

Personally, I haven’t even really liked myself since 5th grade. I haven’t tried to, either. I would like myself if I were someone else. If I were the happily married friend I have that works for the government, if I were the independent friend with no real career but who travels all over the world on a whim, or if I were the cute stay at home parent with a side art business…. then maybe I’d like myself. If I were thin, or motivated, or something….

I dunno… I’m just rambling now….

Picnic Depression & Weight Gain

I’m depressed… I’ve been depressed for a while. Just… irritable and unhappy.

It really came to a head last Saturday, though. I invited 54 people to a picnic in the park. Nice park. Big park. Suggested bringing kids. Bought food and toys to play with… brought my dog, too… and…. no one showed up. It was just me, sitting alone with my dog in a park, with three bags of picnic food, looking really fucking sad.

My mom showed up, because she’s my mom. She brought sandwich stuff and chairs. Also, later a friend came and brought rum. So I wasn’t totally alone… but my feelings are STILL hurt over that. My best friend didn’t even show up. She went to the museum with the guy she’s banging, even though they’re technically broken up after dating shortly.

So, as a result of NO ONE showing up, I went home with a lot of chips and various dips… which I ate… because I was sad, and I eat when I’m sad. Couple that with not being able to go to the gym, because my knee is still injured, and yeah… I’ve gained weight.

I’m trying to be better, in spite of still being crazy depressed, but it’s really hard to eat yogurt and apples when I feel like I’m dying inside. Things just feel like they’re getting worse.

I’m going back to the gym tonight, and I’m going to go against my doctor’s advice and elliptical. If I’m approved for walking and cycling, I don’t see why elliptical would be off the table. It’s like middle ground between the two. And, if it hurts I’ll just switch to swimming laps until I drown.

Depressing Math of the Day

Looked up cost of Gastric Sleeve surgery (weight loss).
They reduce the stomach by 75% and cut out the part that makes you feel hunger.

For insurance to qualify me, I have to go to a physician every week for 6 months to prove that exercise and diet don’t work.
Exercise and diet DO work. That’s not the point.
So that would be $600 in doctor visits… and then the ACTUAL cost of surgery is still $500 on my insurance.

So then I thought about the gym (which I hate so much that if gyms were a race of people, I would launch a mass genocide action against them…
For that to work, I would have to quit having internet to afford the gym fees.
That would also be the only way my junkie butt would have reason to go to the gym… not having internet…

Imma be fat forever.

And yeah… I have an elliptical… and I know how to diet…
But what’s the payoff? Getting to buy new clothes over not eating alfredo and a lot of sweating?
I hate health…

They should have just made a chip to put in my brain that regulates my metabolism to keep me at my ideal BMI.
It’s 2014, god damn it… Flying cars, hover boards, and weight loss brain chips.

Little More Rational Now

So, I do not have breast cancer.
Joyous, wonderful and downright fantastic news.
I couldn’t be happier about that, truly.

To recap what I completely skipped over, I went to Sally Jobe on Monday and got an ultrasound of my right breast. The doctor had found two little beads of doom and she wanted to have them checked. That’s well and good, but she kept my birth control, because, as I learned, estrogen, found in most birth controls, can accelerate the growth rate of breast cancer.

So, I lost my mind over the weekend, thinking I was probably going to die, and then went into Sally Jobe on Monday. My mom went with me, in case it was bad news, but it was not. They couldn’t even find what the doctor thought she had felt. It was totally just a bad scare.

That brings me to today.
I’ve been off birth control for three weeks now. Week one was expected, because it was Shark Week (shark brains are curiously shaped like female reproductive organs). Week two was after I found out that my script for the Nuvaring was out of refills, and that I needed to see the doctor. Week three has been this week, which has been me trying to get my god damn birth control called in.

All I’ve wanted to do for three mother fucking weeks is eat, fuck, and scream. That’s me without birth control. I was placed on birth control when I was fourteen, because I have a cystic ovary and an enlarged ovary. When I’m not on hormone regulating birth control, I am a god damn loon.


This right here. Perfect illustration of me for three weeks.

I managed, thankfully, to get my pills today. That means, that in TWO WEEKS I will be back to normal. Why does it take a week for hormone weirdness to kick in, but two damn weeks for it to cut the fuck out? Ugh… I hate everything… but I have no cancer… and that’s good.

Now… if only I had a cigarette…

God damn it Valentine’s Day

Life is complicated, confusing, scary, and all around pretty shitty to go through feeling alone. Oft, to placate this existential loneliness that everyone seems to feel now and again, people turn to love. You find the one you’re meant to be with and everything else gets easier. That is the general consensus on love.

It’s that mode of thinking that makes February dreadful. Yes, I’m talking about the dreaded Valentine’s Day.

Last year, my bestie and I went out for Valentine’s Day. We saw a movie or something like that, in a passive aggressive jab at being single on a stupid day celebrating being in love. The classic single girl move. This year, I vetoed that. Not only does being a cliche single girl on Valentine’s Day make me want to vomit, but the bestie has a man of interest.

So… My new goal is to get them to go out that night. They casually date right now, but if he doesn’t take her out, I will be expected to. I am tired of being her stand in boyfriend. Don’t get me wrong, I love my bestie. She is smart, funny, cute, sweet, but overwhelmingly straight. So, if I can’t even tap that. I don’t want to fake it.

I plan on spending my Friday at home by myself. It sounds lonely, but a night with my dogs and some old movies isn’t too bad.

At worst, there is a guy from the Internet that would like to bang me. Bet I can con him into dinner and then flee. He’s a six. A six is okay for dating, but he would drag down my hit it and quit it score like mad.