I hate cheez-its type crackers.
Don't buy the Garlic Herb flavored Triscuits "just to see if they're good." They're not. They're potent.
Dogs are a pain in the ass.
I developed Acid Reflux while (and because of, I feel) in a particularly stressful and not terribly happy relationship.
I can't seem to type today.
It makes me feel like shit when Tandra can't afford something she wants. Especially if it's also something she needs. When I have to say "later we can do it, not now" I feel like a loser. I am so finished with being broke my whole goddamn life. Actually that's not the issue. I'm just in a baaad mood this morning and so everything negative is going to be stressed. I do very good and very professional work and I'm not fairly compensated for it. I do all right, it could be worse, but I ought to make more. However they are helping me with school and given my chosen career, I'm lucky to have a place who is as good to me as this place is. It's pretty close to perfect for me. They just need to pay me a little bit more so I can afford my wedding and the associated costs and so I can make my beautiful fiancee happy.
I am not going to go into detail at this point but let me just say that I was right to be conflicted about one of the Friday night events, righter than I ever imagined. This event was so sucktacular that I was unable to enjoy the other event that night. This thing I was at was maybe the most stressful and uncomfortable feeling I've had since sitting in the principal's office at a private Christian school in the sixth grade knowing I was about to get spanked for saying the F word. You know that tangible stress, the "jesus CHRIST I don't want to be here" feeling in your chest, probably the same one that causes ulcers, or acid reflux for that matter. Even having some good people to talk to didn't help. Not one bit. And my discomfort stemmed almost entirely from the knowledge that someone else who I love very much was almost certainly feeling extremely uncomfortable and out of place. I felt like this was not something I had brought her to, but something I had done to her. I felt horrible about it. And we couldn't just about-face and leave without being rude. Let me tell you, THAT'S a fun position to be in.
And this sucks because it means that someone who was once my friend can no longer be. It could be a worse loss, we don't talk much anymore, but it just sucks knowing there's that barrier there now.
Ok, enough about that. Nic comes over to the house and all he does the whole time is cry for his daddy. Out of nowhere he'll just burst out in tears, and I mean hollering, not just quiet. "I want my daddy! I miss my daddy!" It might be different if when he was there he was yelling about his mommy, but that doesn't happen. Tandra and I are both full up to here of his crap and we don't know what to do. It's not like life at mommy and Josh's house is horrible. We feed the kids good food and they get dessert after every meal if they finish it. They have a room FULL of cool toys and kids in the neighborhood to play with. Nic gets to play the Playstation too. I'm not hard on him. Maybe daddy lets him do anything he wants. We do know that at dad's, he gets to sleep on the sofa in front of the TV which we don't allow. But really, is that so bad? Maybe to a four year old. Xandria has a new thing she likes to say to me which translated from two-year-old talk means "you gonna be my stepdad?" It's adorable, but yesterday immediately after her saying that, Nic started in again with the daddy crying. I don't remember if it was something he said or just some inspiration I had, but I suddenly had the impression that maybe he thought that when I became his stepdad, he wouldn't get to have his real dad anymore. That might explain it. This crying for daddy business started right around the same time we told the kids we were getting married. So I explained to him that he would always have his daddy and that all three of us love him very much and he'd still get to see us all. He calmed down for then but started up again later in the evening, so who knows. I don't know what's going on in that kid's head and I'm not about to plunk down wedding money for a child psychologist who has a sixty percent chance of being full of shit anyway. (It's ADD! stick him on Ritalin!)
I don't know how to spell Ritalin.
The electrical wiring in our house sucks like a desperate whore. The electrical outlet in the bathroom has chosen to switch itself off, problem being THERE IS NO SWITCH so I can't turn it back on. "Shaver? Blow dryer? Curling iron? Negative! Night light? Forget about it! I'll not supply power to you! For I am the self-aware, fully coherent BATHROOM OUTLET and I seek to control all!" Oh yeah, and then there's the mikki fikki kitchen light. God forbid we try to have a light with a ceiling fan, because Juan, Carlos and the rest of the goddamn contractors evidently can't handle a light fixture that's not super-glued into oblivion. A fan? You mean it might MOVE? Oh, merde! Pollo con chorizo! So now the damn thing basically won't light up. The motion of the fan shorts out the light, so the fan will spin all you like but you're lucky if the light comes on at all, and if it does, it's browning out or turning on and off like fucking Amityville or some shit. So I'm going to go by their office in person over my lunch break and lay into them a little bit. When we first moved in and lots of stuff needed to be fixed and they had to be poked and prodded every day to get it done, Tandra immediately had no patience about the deal, but I was patient. I'm pretty much out of that patience. I used to worry about not being an asshole to them but fuck that, I pay rent every month. They're obligated to keep up the maintenance on the house.
And remind me to get a copy of the deposit and lease agreements while I'm there since the bastards never mailed them to me.
Let's see, what else can I bitch about...this is turning out to be a sort of therapeutic morning, what with spending the whole time bitching into cyberspace instead of actually doing any aspect of my job (I'm waiting on service calls, honestly I am).
Ok, umm, what have I bitched about?
Oh, I guess something good happened too. I got a decent amount of work done on my model. Let me tell you, creating 1/25 scale seat belts is a pain in the ass.
North Down (2), nr Beckhampton, Wiltshire. Reported 18th July.