Wednesday, 29 February 2012

Leap Years Fuck With My Life

For some reason, even though I've wrote about it and talked about it and all that, it hasn't fully dawned on me that motherfucking Month End is tonight.
I haven't done audit in two nights, so if shit doesn't balance, I basically have to bend over and take it.

After audit, I promise for a better post full of more substantial things, like how I wear glasses that end up blinding me, or how hot construction guys harassed my boss to the point she messaged me and asked me what I put in their purple drank to calm them down.

I was missed, apparently.
That's obviously why I'm taking my sweet time getting into work.
Go team.
Now to find pants....

Tuesday, 28 February 2012

I Got An Award, Noa Replied To A Tweet AND I WON AN AWARD. How's Your Tuesday?

Y'all. I had a post to write about my finances, because I want to stick to a budget and I feel like a bunch of strangers will help keep me in line (as opposed to the shaming I'd deal with for going over from my real life family) but I forgot this was the week that my life was going to motherfucking change.

I can officially save your life.
Well, maybe not save it, but certainly help keep that shit going for 10-20 minutes until properly trained bitches come and take over.

CPR Training the beginning of the week was fantastic. I worked Sunday night, and went into CPR Training Monday morning after my shift basically drunk. The instructor,Rod Clugston, was fanfuckingtastic. Seriously. Kept the class awake and alert and engaged us and in the end we are all Level C CPR Certified.

Yesterday I went back to work and practiced signing with the girl who was working, because I wanted to practice and because I needed to stay the fuck awake a bit longer so I wouldn't sleep through the class start time today. I definitely didn't do that, and today was alright. I felt like a regular human, but even now typing this I'm getting sleepy because my body refuses to admit I had enough sleep (and if anyone here tries to tell me that me sleeping for 11 hours isn't enough, I will laugh sprinkles in your face).


Bitches, I won an award.

The Liebster Award, which took me some googling and effort to figure out what it meant. Essentially, some bad ass chick thinks I'm fucking rad, and wants the small section of internet that we reside in to know about it. I'M HONOURED.

Jana, who I have dedicated an entire post to, nominated this bitch. She's obviously got good taste, and even before this she was welcome to join me for a night of boring babysitting at work. I'd even try to let her pick a weekend night when I saw more whores and drunks than the average hot construction men weeknight. Thank you very much, miss Jana.

Now, there are apparently rules to this award. I've completed one, by thanking the bad ass who gave me the award. Some places I've looked up say three people need to be nominated and raved, some say five. I'm going with three because I'm falling the fuck asleep. Yeah, lazy wins in this case. I'd love to nominate Noa, but I feel like the bitch has more than 200 followers and you can't (shouldn't?) nominate someone with over that number. It's mythical and will generally result in limb loss if you break the rules.

Maybe. I read it on the internet.

I hereby nominate:

1. Jaclyn from Nursery Rhymes and Curse Words. She's one of those bitches I want to be when I grow up, and she writes some funny funny shit. Even when the shit isn't funny, like bodily fluids or poisoning trusting Canadians with lip balm. I blame you for the fact I'm sicker than fuck right now, by the way. Jerk. Love you.

2. Misty, from Misty's Laws. I love me some Misty. She's a lawyer, a momma, a wife and a daredevil with her cellphone taking pictures. I wish to be like her so I could take pictures of the whores and crack addicts. Maybe one day. She's awesome, and I wish it were possible to squish Jaclyn, her and my last nominee into one person and then clone them, and put them into a man's body who miraculously became Canadian and knocked on my door. I would like to think that man would be my version of Prince Charming.

And finally, it shouldn't be much of a surprise, because I featured her in my first Tribute to my Internet Heroes...

3. Jen from "Jen" e sais quoi. This woman, is a fucking bad ass. I want to be her daughter, and have managed to obtain fake adoption papers to make this happen. She's amazing, and so strong and brave and maintains a level of badassery that one day, I want to get to. She's awesome and I love her blog something fierce.

You should check out all the blogs I've linked, because they are all fantastic. Excellent things to read when you're bored at work and need something to look busy with. Fall in love with them too!

Tomorrow is fucking Month End.
Legitimately, this makes me want to call in sick this month, for no other reason than it's going to be a busy fucking night, and I have missed two nights of hot construction men. I dislike it when things fuck with my routine. Maybe that's why my body is slowly going into sleep mode even though I'm typing. 

Monday, 27 February 2012

This Isn't A Real Post, Just A Rant About Fucktards

Dear Fucktard,

It is 5:17 in the morning. For the past 12 minutes you have been BLARING your fucking punk ass music (and I'm not talking the good kind of punk, which I would dance to, but rather the bullshit "I'm only playing this so girls don't notice my dick is really small" kind of music) infront of my lobby.

Fucktard, this needs to stop.

It is distracting me from watching Jenna Marbles on YouTube, and I'm guessing you aren't planning on going anywhere anytime soon. Turn your shit down, you infant.

People are still sleeping, and I don't need to get yelled at. Today is going to be a long day with CPR Training and all that bullshit, so, you need to fuck right off.

Do not make me come out there.


Friday, 24 February 2012

Dear Jana, You Ask and You Shall Receive; Or, A Day In The Life of Ninja (at work)

Big Kid decisions are eating at me like red ants ate at that guy's face on Sons of Anarchy, but for now, I'd like to entertain you with a rough “Day in the Life of Ninja At Work”. Obviously dedicated to Jana, who has made several comments about wanting to spend a night with me. In a non sexual way, I'm assuming, but if it's a slow night....




930pm: Wake up. This changes depending on the day, what I do in the morning, if I have night class, but generally on days I have nothing going on or days I babysit I wake up at 930pm.

10Pm: Actually get out of bed. Shower, dress, grab a book or movie for the night in a crotch jinxing moment of stupidity.

1030Pm: Get coffee and/or snack. VITAL that this happens, or my life is ruined and I turn into an uber bitch at work. Funny for you guys, not funny for my regulars.

11Pm: Officially sign in. This involves putting my index finger of my right hand onto a fingerprint scanner, which, the first 1928109 times I had to do it it was fucking amazing and made me feel like I was signing in to be a secret spy or some shit, but now it's just whatever.

11pm-1130pm: Do my rounds. The other shift leaves, I grab the keys and walk around the building, locking up the outside doors (except the front entrance) and grabbing the utilities numbers so I can input them into a spreadsheet. After I secure the doors and get the numbers, I go back to the desk, grab my poor lonely coffee/tea and walk the hallways. There are four. Generally I go down the double hallway first, because it's the most full and has the most activity (normally) and I like to gauge how fucked my night will be. It's also known as Construction Central. Not because there's renovations (let's be real, here) but because all my construction guys stay in those rooms. I tend to walk slowly, so they can't hear me and I pay attention to the different smells and where they are coming from. If it's strong, or doesn't smell like it's almost legal in Canada, I bust them right away. Sometimes I do it while on my rounds, other times I wait and go back to do it. It's a process, and you learn quickly how to approach them. Along my walkaround I check all the doors that should already be locked and if they are, great I move on. If not, I find the right key and lock that shit up. I check the meeting rooms to make sure the patio doors are locked, and the creams/milks are in the fridge. I also normally finish my tea/coffee by the end of my rounds, because I take my sweet sweet time. I almost always have my cellphone on me, and it's almost always playing some music. Partly so people know I'm coming and can scatter from the exits instead of getting caught, and partly so other people make themselves known and I do throw judo chops. True story: happened once. It wasn't a great judo chop, but it scared the guy badly enough. This week I've been playing Ray LaMontagne, because fuck you he's awesome. I love the slowness and he doesn't put me to sleep. Yay music!

1130pm-1230pm: Normally during this time, if it's a quiet night or if I'm just bored, I'll do my audit. I will not bore you with the ridiculous amounts of paperwork I handle, but just assume it's a lot. I can do my audit in my sleep for the most part and on most nights, everything balances. If it's a Month End night, I generally have an extra two hours worth of paperwork to shuffle through and complete. During this time, I also handle the phones, anyone coming in and going to their room, or 'visiting a friend', and I also do any walk-ins that come in off the street and need a room. Normally I see no one, because this is also the time the bars are still open and anyone who wanted to go has already gone and they don't normally come back.

1230pm-2am: I get visitors, in the shape of hot construction men coming back from work, and in the form of cracked out druggies who are so high on shit that I refuse to even start the conversation out politely. See almost all of my posts so far for references on how I handle stupid people. Normally during this time, if I'm going to have a shit night and its going to be busy, I'll feel it during this period. I'll get busy on the phone, a room will flood or I'll get noise complaints from the children coming back from the bars. I handle them with the utmost respect and professionalism, for the most part. I know it may seem like I'm a bitch to all my guests, but I only write about the assholes so far. I have more good guys than toolbags, really. Most of the guys just need the one warning from me to calm the fuck down.

2am-430am: I wish I had something cooler to put here. A typical night involves me sitting at my laptop in my manager's office, watching the window that shows me who is coming into the hotel, and the lobby area. I'll watch t.v. Shows online, read while playing music, watch a movie or study. I've had some friends come by before and hang out with me, while they were on night shift, which is cool. It's never a regular thing though. Normally I snag a chocolate bar from the gift shop, read yesterdays newspapers before I chuck it out. Make sure the lobby and all my data entry for the night is done, normally.

430am-5am: I talk to my boss. Seriously. She can call earlier, but normally in this time frame she'll call. Makes sure that I'm a) alive still and b) still near the desk and not acting like the past audits have. I haven't missed a single call from her. We talk about the day/night, and any plans or things that we have going on. She's pretty fucking awesome, to be honest.

5am-6am: I blog. Or I read blogs, while waving to the construction guys as they leave for the day. Most of them don't check out until today, although we've been getting crews that fuck my shit up and leave earlier in the week. Makes a girl insane when she gets bombarded by all those checkouts, but the men lately have been super hot and super within my age range of attraction, so I don't mind it all too much. After wiping the drool from my mouth, I tend to hang out in the lobby because the effort of getting up and down from the office is pointless.

6am-7am: I double check all the arrivals for the day, close down my laptop and pack up, and do the bulk of the check outs in the morning. Let there be no mistake. During the weekend, the morning shift gets hit with almost all the checkouts. During the week? I do. Construction crews are notoriously early in checking out. Example? Writing this post I've been interrupted four times by the crews needing to check out. Bullshit, I tell you. Once I have everything done for the morning shift, I'll give the restaurant guy the coffee mug from the previous day, unlock the side doors and throw the garbage and recycling out. Then it's just a waiting game until the next shift comes in.

Really, most of my night is just sitting in the office, entertaining myself. I have chores and things I can do, but it's never on a regular basis and they're only five minute tasks. Bulk of my time is spend waiting for something to happen here.

You guys get to read the juicier stuff.

This weekend I have boxes to pack and things to say to people who aren't going to like what I have to say, and I have to learn how to swallow my pride and hopefully I'm making the right choices.

Maybe next time I'll try to include pictures so y'all can feel like you're on the adventure with me.
Happy Friday! 

Thursday, 23 February 2012

Of Course I'll Give You A Discount After Cops Come To Take You Away

Dear punk ass bitches:

Listen up.

When you come into my hotel and the first fucking words out of your mouth are "Oh wow, you're pretty!", you cannot expect me to treat you with any form of respect or politeness. Especially at 2:30 in the morning when you reek of pot, booze and you're tweaking. I live and work in the ghetto, homeboy. I can spot that shit a mile away now.

I gave you a five dollar discount because you said it was just the two of you, after you checked out my tits, made more rude comments (to the point where one of my regulars stayed up at the desk until you left because he was getting mad at the shit you were saying- and a drunk construction guy is clearly one you don't want to piss off) and then you proceeded to shit all over my kindness.

Bringing in seven other people? Awesome.
Calling me "mami" every fucking time you came downstairs to go for a smoke? Check.
Winking and licking your lips? Bitch I just ate my supper, I wanted to throw up!

And then the goddamn icing on the cake.

You brought a wanted criminal into my hotel and woke the entire place up with the bullshit take down the cops had to do. You're fantastic. Don't try to apologise or whine, it is most unbecoming of a six foot four child.

I'm keeping your deposit and kicking your sorry ass out.


Tuesday, 21 February 2012

An Adventure In Becoming A Grown Up, take One

I have never been good at long term goals. Anything that takes a while to get, I tend to lose interest in and find something else to do. I feel like an ADD squirrel most of the time, when I'm not focused on a book or helping someone or working. I have done many great things, but I think it's to balance out the bullshit karma I have. I'm not religious (even though I will pretend for my family come those religious holidays and weddings and funerals. Catholic school taught me well) but I do believe there is something bigger out there than us.

I mean, don't get me wrong. I have stuck to my guns about a few things in life, but I have a lot more fails than wins in my book. This is why this year, I'm writing out what I want to get done with my life. Where I want to go and how I want to start living. Maybe you fine people can help keep me in check. This year is about facing all my demons, about conquering the dragon while finding who I am, again. I've lost myself in the past three years. Twenties are a bitch, I'm finding.

Modelling this after one of my internet heroes, Jen, I'm going to try and post updates about what I want and how I'm going about it. I feel like the things I'm setting for myself this year are reasonable. I'm not looking to become a millionaire, although if that happened I certainly wouldn't turn my nose down at it.
No, there are really only four things I'm aiming to complete this year. I hate that goddamn number, but there's nothing else I really want to do (yet). I have ideas on how I'm going to do it, but nothing is ever concrete. I'm willing to change with the times, go with the flow. So far, though here are my goals for 2012. Not resolutions. Fuck that. These are challenges I'm setting for myself, things I want to and feel like I need to accomplish.

1. Become Fluent in Sign Language
I started taking an intro course in January because I'm too broke to take French (and honestly, I learned nothing in that class. Sign was also 1/3 of the cost and 20000 times more interesting) and my online degree is currently on hold, because I've been hearing some shady things about the University as well I can't afford the classes right now.

Steps I'm Taking So Far
I'm almost done the Intro course, and while I'm still considering continuing with the local college, my instructor suggested I look at the local deaf organization and see about taking their classes, which are more in depth and also give me the hours of training I need to become an Interpreter. Which is my ultimate goal (and will take me about 3 years in total to do)
I emailed the program and am awaiting an email back. I check the site every day to see if they're posting the Spring 2012 classes yet. So far, nothing. Hope I hear back this week.

2. Get Out Of Debt Y'all, I'm a stupid stupid girl. I take full responsibility for this fuckery that is known as my credit rating, and how much debt I'm in. I'm not in a huge whack of debt, but for me, any debt makes my skin crawl a bit. It's also preventing me from doing other things I want, as well, I hate that icky feeling. I know it's a part of life, and I won't ever be truly out of debt, but I want to get my couch paid off, and I want to start saving for a house, and I want to have nothing owing from when I was with D. A lot of the debt I have still, is because of him and his manipulations and my trusting spirit. I have no one to blame but myself, but I don't think I'll ever stop kicking myself for not telling him to buy things on his own. Main things I want to pay off- Dell Computer (600 or 700 dollars), Credit Card (3000) and my couch (1200), and my parents (a lot. 5000 is probably around the mark of what I owe).

Steps I'm Taking So Far
I've paid off another computer D had me get for him, and in two weeks I'll have the money to give to the Dell people. This is the big thing that I need to be held accountable for. I'm not going to put how much I make (although really, you can guess because it's a hotel gig. It's not much but I get by) but I want to start doing a weekly spending wrap up. I think if I start really seeing exactly everything I'm spending money on, I'll either shame myself into stopping or I'll find ways to cut back.

Right now, it's hard because of where I live and how unstable shit is. I'm in the middle of trying to figure out if I'm moving in with someone, or moving home, or being homeless. Instability in the home life fucking sucks, because I have the money to pay off this computer, but I know if I spend it something will happen and I'll be stuck like a fool for money. I hate living pay to pay.

3.Get My Motorcycle License/Get A Motorcycle

Now, before we all point out how contradicting this goal is, let me explain. I grew up in a small town, and my family is intensely into bikes and trucking. It's where my fearlessness of shit comes from. Fun Fact About Me: While I come from a biking family, I have never rode on the back of a motorcycle. Nor will I ever. It has been my dream since I was 16 to get my motorcycle license, but because insurance companies in Canada don't easily insure 16 year old girls for bikes, I stuck with the car license. Here in Ontario, I have to go for a whole new scale of licensing to be legally able to drive a motorcycle. This year, if things with the living situation go the way I think they will (aka I'm moving the fuck back to my parents) I know I'll need this escape. I have my car, true, but there's something to be said for hopping on a bike and just, going. Or so my dreams tell me.

Before I purchase a bike, I will have paid off the computer, my couch and a good portion of my credit card debt. If I haven't, then I won't allow myself to make another huge purchase, even though I'm only looking at used bikes. I'm realistic.

Steps I'm Taking So Far
Looking into motorcycle training courses at the local college. In my Intro to Sign class, there's an older married couple and the husband is actually the instructor for it. I've been picking his ear the best I can and he has me convinced I should take the April 13th weekend course. What this means is by April 13th I'll need to get my M1 license (it's the first step in the graduated license) because at the end of the weekend I'll have my M2. This cost is small compared to a lot of other places I've looked at, and it pays for the M2 exit test. Which is huge.
Trolling sites like Kijiji and the classifieds at work, I'm getting a feel for how much a bike I want is going to run me. I'm talking with my dad about finding a good starter bike for me (no Harley yet...) and hopefully I'll be able to find one within my price range.

4.Start Running Again/Get Back Into Shape
Fun fact: I used to play competitive volleyball. I was a total badass, and at one point in my awesome career I broke some chick's nose with the force of my ball. Not my fault she couldn't block the spike. Anyways, I remember hating a lot about the exercise regime, but I also remember loving running. I know I sucked at it, but I liked getting active. There are parts of my body I want to tone up, want to improve a bit and I want to start being a grown up and not living off of Kit Kats, fast food and pop. This goal is more of a “get healthier before you die” kind of goal, and if I can accomplish goal 3, I'll have a lot of spare time. M1 riders cannot ride during the night time. I'd have to come to work hours before my shift starts, and if I don't use the pool, or have homework, I'd be bored. My solution is to come to work, throw on some running shoes and go for a run around the ghetto before my shift.

Steps I'm Taking So Far
In truth? Nothing. I used to go to the local rec centre and do Aqua Fit every morning (much to the chagrin of the older ladies who were offended by my many tattoos and bikini clad body) but that stopped the month I couldn't afford the monthly fee. I'm looking into getting my membership renewed, and right now with the snow walking outside is hazardous to my health. I'm a huge klutz. So for now, I'm trying to watch what I eat, but I'm not obsessed about it yet. I don't really know where else to turn, but I am now waiting for the snow to go away so goal 3 and 4 can start up.

I hope y'all will be here with me. I know the next month or so is going to be a huge fuckery of things, and I haven't decided if I'm going to just put it all out there, or if I'll be able to handle it.

Right now, though, I am hitting publish and going home to a very excited, very awake niece who just turned four (literally. Today's the kids birthday) and I'm going to curl up and watch Lady and the Tramp with her.

I hope y'all have a good day!
Much love and hugs.


Monday, 20 February 2012

Tribute To One Of My Internet Heroes, Take One: Jen

So I spent the better part of my shift trying to figure out how to convey, in something that wasn't a wall of text, how amazing I think Jen is. 

Y'all,* she's one of the reasons I started blogging and kept going. I stalk the ever loving shit out of her, Jaclyn and Misty in the hopes that their level of strength, and courage and bravery and fucking bad assery, will rub off on me and I will be like them when I grow up.

*and yes, fuck you, I say y'all even though I'm Canadian. I say it with a southern accent and don't always realise I'm doing it until someone laughs at me.

So, because Jen was able to correctly find 6 degrees or less between the actors I named and N.F., I am obligated by my own moral code of ethics to devote at least two paragraphs to how awesome this chick is. Two paragraphs because if I set myself up for more I'll end up getting far too emotionally and that shit doesn't do well with my ninja rep.

One of the first posts I remember of Jen's was one of her “Stupidest Crap Ever Spoken By Me and My Friends” posts and I basically fell in love with her and tried to figure out how I could become part of her circle. Clearly, this chick is hilarious. A bonus. She has kids that she refers to as Short People, she has a huge sometimes not but normally just cold war going on with the Office Skank and she's still in school. She's fucking rad. So I began stalking her like I stalk Noa, which means obsessively checking at night to see if she had posted anything new and then wondering why she hadn't posted anything new because I am crazy, apparently, and believe that everyone needs to be awake when I am.

Then I noticed she does funny, and serious. Both are amazing and I love the moments when you're so serious and passionate about an issue, and then you turn it into something hilarious. You keep that serious tone, but you make me chuckle when others would probably scold me for laughing.

You are one of the bravest fucking women I know, Jen.

You lay it all out in your blog, and you have faults. You're not perfect, but you're clearly trying and you're doing it in such a bad ass way that I often re read your blog posts in awe and try to learn from you. Your Red Dress Playlist is forcing me to face what I want, and that I need to start taking steps to getting it. I'm cheering you on with your journey, and I hope that I can figure out my own path soon.

In closing, I stumbled upon this gem and I feel like someone, or something, needs to happen where you get this product and try it. I know your love of bacon, my maja.

Thank you for being so fucking amazing.

Happy Family Day! 

An Intermission, Of Sorts...

Because I'm working on the proper tribute post to the wonderful Jen, I've decided to put in this little wee post about how I did not die, but instead I slept through what felt like 800 days but was really only my weekend.

I also know a lot of you (read: all of you lucky bastards) have tomorrow off, and for that I am jealous.

Tomorrow, or the next day, I am talking to my boss about the douchebaggery and under the bus attempting that one of the lovely people I work with is demonstrating.

That should be a wonderful conversation, I'm sure.

For now, I'm going to continue working on my love e-note to my internet maja, and eat large quantities of pizza and chocolate. But not together, that would just be weird.

Thursday, 16 February 2012

Just When You Thought The Whores Had Left...

Tonight there are four rooms, at least, doing activities that my gramma doesn't need to hear about.

Two girls are sharing a room, and, more power to them. I fucking hate this room. I want to send tear gas or something into it, or bleach all their clothes somehow.

I'm working on a post regarding the Classes of Whores, and how I feel they need to adjust their attitudes. When you're nice to the staff, we don't call the fucking cops on you. That should be common sense, right? It's not. These punks feel like they are entitled, because they've been coming here since before I was here, little girl (yeah. YEAH. Got called little girl. Guess how polite I was after that happened)

I'm going to be telling/asking my boss that these chicks be given the goddamn boot. Or I'll warn her that if they're still in tonight when I get in, I'm calling the cops.

I still have no idea how the girls that manage to get any sort of sex, paid or otherwise.
What is it about men that attracts them to plastered on makeup, perfume pouring out of pores (say that five times fast, I dare you), and nasty attitudes?

Things to ponder will plotting how to fuck with the whores and ruin their 'beauty' sleep....

Wednesday, 15 February 2012

Five Dicks, 3.5 Vaginas, 3 Broken Beers and One Vodka Fueled Rage, How was YOUR Valentines?

This week my hotel has been uncommonly busy.
forty plus rooms busy.
It's been interesting, and certainly more handsome, what with the eye candy provided to me by the added bodies.

It's also been stupid.

Tonight was Valentines, in case you missed all that getting shoved down your throat.
Tonight was also Single People Fucking Strangers night, with a side order of "We Still Live At Home and Mom and Pop Wouldn't Appreciate The Bondage Scenes"

I'm running behind on paperwork, and I still have to find bleach, but I wanted to drop this little token of awesome on y'all.

Five Dicks:

1. Around 12am, Douchebag One whips it out in an attempt to 'lure' me to his room. I tell him I can't see something that small without my glasses and I left those at home tonight.
2. Ten minutes later, Douchebag Two (his friend) offers his junk. With a red bow, which made me laugh, because I give points for courage. And the bow looked pretty too. I politely declined and he went away too.
3. One of the regulars. The words I have to describe the hilarity, involving him and the beers that broke and the fact he's probably old enough to be my father... sigh. I'm waiting for him to wake up and apologise. Or blush, either way.
4. Douchebag One, round two. This time, a girl was with him. In the hallway directly beside my desk, where I was doing my audit. BLEACH IS NEEDED.
5. Douchebag One again. Seriously, I have looked at this kid's junk unwillingly so much tonight I want to charge his penis a fine. At least that time was outside. I locked the front doors on the two of them. Abuse of power, yes. Hilarious, absolutely.

3.5 Vaginas
1. Douchebag Two's 'girlfriend' decided to show me what was going to be plundered. Willingly lifted her 'skirt' up. I have no words. I laughed at her and told her to have a good night.
2. Unintentional, when Douchebag One and his 'girl' were in the hallway. Full vag shot, my eyes are burned. She is not a natural blonde, though.
3. Douchebag Ones 'girl', outside. She is the point and a half too, because I saw it, and then saw parts of it, and this post just got really creepy and makes it seem like I was trying to look for the poon. I WASN'T, GUYS.

Broken Beers

Happened when one of my regulars was walking, drunkenly, trying to get to his room with his pants by his ankles. I cleaned it up, only because I don't totally know where the first aid kit shit is. Anything heavier than bandaids, and I take a good ten minutes to find.

Drunk bitches yelled at me, holding a bottle of vodka.
I was accused of trying to steal Douchebag One and Two from the 'ladies'.
I laughed, almost to the point of hyperventilation. The guys carried the whores ladies up to the room, and I have not heard from them since.

On a brighter note, my boss brought me in two chocolate bars and a thank you note with a gift card in it for the shit load of hours I worked last week for her.
Chocolate is pretty much the easiest way to my heart.
That and poisoned lip balm.

Happy Chocolate Day, people.
May love fill your hearts, mouths and loins.

Tuesday, 14 February 2012

Chocolate Day Is Almost Here!

Fuck this day.
I say that with love, while I'm possibly? in a relationship, but I absolutely detest this day.

Tomorrow, however. Tomorrow is a completely different story.
February 15th, November 1st and whatever the day in April is after Easter, are my favourite days of the goddamn year. Discount Chocolate Day, bitches.
Those are the days of the year that the big stores have to start reducing their regular EIGHT FUCKING DOLLAR chocolates, to Four. That's right. FOUR DOLLARS.

I may have received a couple chocolates this year before the Big Day, but I am assured I will get a present of chocolate after today. It is enough to make any girl squeal.

Tonight, however, will be Drunk and Lonely Men night. My hotel is all sorts of busy, and most of them are men. Appealing to look at, but it's like window shopping. They just don't completely understand the 'window' aspect. Tonight I'll be in heels and look as old and professional as possible, so when the Mom Voice comes out to scold the children back into their rooms, they may actually listen.

Last year it worked, I think that this year has a real shot at working.

Fingers crossed.

Monday, 13 February 2012

When You Poke A Sleepy Audit... basically get the biggest bitch in customer service ever.

I'm super tired tonight. I may have even had a twenty minute nap that resulted in me waking up scared to my alarm on my phone. I did my audit late tonight, so I was doing paperwork when the past Night Audit chick came in.

Now, this chick has a bad reputation at my hotel to begin with. The things she did that resulted in her termination are as follows (but not limited to, because they never really tell you an actual reason):
-walking down the street to get a coffee and leaving the hotel completely unattended.
- giving free rooms to her friends all the time
- using rooms for her own personal activities while on shift
- not doing the fucking audit
- Not showing up for her shift at.all.
- not answering her phone when she missed an entire shift

One or more of these got this chick fired. It happened almost a year and a half ago. I've been here ever since. There was a two week gap, but the manager was doing this shift.

So this whore walks in, and I'm tired so I'm slow to be polite. I need energy to be nice to people who just exude the look of douchebaggery. She starts in and tells me who she is and how she'll be getting the family and friend discount rate and my hotel manager knows her and blah blah blah blah blah. The amount of bullshit and life story I just received is immense and I don't want to trouble y'all with it.

She then tries to get me to call my manager, and I tell her no way. There isn't a problem. I name a very reasonable deposit price ($100 bucks) and tell her that I'll just hold it, and when she checks out at 11am in the morning she can talk to the morning girl and/or the hotel manager. She balks and starts to lose her shit, but in the most condescending, holier than thou way that I automatically shut down and start to sleep.

With my eyes open, of course.

In my head, I slapped her, told her to wipe the cum off her lips and get the fuck out of my hotel.

In reality, I stood there with a passive agressive "you may have worked here before but I'm running shit now, bitch. Good.Fucking.Luck" look on my face that I've ever been able to pull off. I think she was debating slugging me, but decided against it. I look kind of tough in my jeans and purple striped sweatshirt tonight, I guess.

She then tried to threaten my job, and told me to inform my boss that she'd be coming in to lodge a formal complaint against me. And then she smiled and told me to have a good day.

I of course, said thank you and I wished her the best of luck finding a hotel that would charge her under 100 bucks.

I may have waved. And smiled.

And now I'm going to shovel the snow and mop the floors and do the rest of the paperwork and eat some valentines day chocolates because I'm a spoiled little girl and enjoy this note I'm writing out to my boss.
(My job is no where near threatened, don't worry.)

Saturday, 11 February 2012

I Slept For A Billion Hours, Now I'm Going To Watch Hockey

So yesterday I slept.
A lot. More than I thought I would, actually. That's the thing about night audits. We like our sleep, something fierce, when we get it. And after working so much this past week, I needed it.

So I slept, and woke up to go to family dinner and then a date.

And now, as a post and dash, I'm running to watch my cousin play hockey (and hopefully kick ass) and then I'm subjecting myself to the loud, crazy, hilarious thing known as my Dad's side of the family.

I'm hoping only one punch or two  is thrown this time.

Happy Saturday!

Thursday, 9 February 2012

My Hotel Is Fucking Haunted, Part Two

I first encountered Roberto about four months into my job.

He is not friendly. He's actually kind of a dick. That little brother no one ever likes, locks up in the attic and throws scraps of stale bread and water at. That sort of ghost. He mostly just runs around the hotel, which fucks with a newbie when they are first starting out.

Little secret? My hotel is fucking old.

So it took me a few months to get used to all the sounds, like the ice machine making ice and the stairs upstairs and down, and the hallways odd sounds.

I now know when there's no one upstairs, but the stairs still creak? That's Roberto.
I have a theory that he's an old man, one who died and never really left.

He's slammed doors, broken small things, thrown dirt and debris from the ceiling at me when I curse him, and generally done some pretty annoying things. But he's old, and normally hangs out in a certain part of the hotel.

Eddie, though? Eddie is a punk ass.

He's the third ghost, and I feel like he's a teen. He certainly acts like it. I can't count the number of times I've been getting my numbers while doing my rounds, and I'm in the electrical room and out of the corner of my eye I'll see someone running by me, but there's no footsteps or sounds. I've been sitting here, watching T.V and had Eddie run around the corner of one hallway and down the next, just to spook me.

He also likes to knock the restaurants menus down onto the ground, which has happened three times. I feel like it's a lot, considering those bitches are sturdy and you can't blow them down*

*fuck you all for judging, I get bored easily.
*And get your goddamn head out of the gutter.

So I know something knocks them the fuck down when the fans aren't even on.

In four days I've worked more than I've been off, and been awake almost 3 times more than I've slept.

I'm fucking passing out in the suite I had this morning and sleeping for at least ten hours. Fuck anything and anyone who tries to wake me up during that time, I will cut a bitch. Seriously.

Tomorrow, I plan to write about how cops have gone from being douchebags to hilarious stalkers.
Stay tuned!  

Wednesday, 8 February 2012

My Hotel Is Fucking Haunted, Part One

My hotel really is haunted.

I mean, first of all I live in the ghetto, so clearly I must live near at least four or five hidden bodies (kidding) but in all seriousness, my hotel is fucking haunted. There are times when I'm alone that it gets super creepy and weird shit happens. I feel like there are at least three different spirits in the hotel, just hanging out and waiting to freak me the fuck out when I'm tired and have nothing else to think about.

Example One

Ernest is one of the friendlier spirits of my hotel. (Fuck you, I name shit for fun sometimes) He likes to turn lights off, and give me the goosebump feeling of being watched when really no one is there and nothing is wrong. He normally leaves me alone, unless he's really bored. He's pretty cool, except when the power goes out.

Last time we had a huge storm, the pool alarm went off which meant that someone had 'hit the alarm' to tell me someone was drowning. The pool had been closed for hours, so I knew it was impossible, but it's a really loud, really annoying sound and at that point my Drunk Toddlers were still around so I knew I'd be hearing a bitchy whiny chorus of men in their boxers if I didn't fix it. I went into the pool area with the flashlight, into the loud and awkwardly shaped pool room to turn the alarm off and my flashlight died.

Didn't flicker, or anything. Just outright died. I blame Ernest.

Examples Two and Three will be coming soon, to a blog near you.*

*Total cop out. I'm fucking tired, and 13 hour shifts are kicking my ass for some reason. Still at work, still waiting for relief.

Hugs and shit,


Tuesday, 7 February 2012

Dear Asshat, You're Not Clever


Do not come up to my gift shop, ask me how much the big bag of chips are, and then cry to me about the injustice of the world. It's a hotel gift shop, moron. Of course that shit will be jacked up. You're too fucking lazy to go down the street to the Mac's? We're more than happy to plunder your wallet.

Him: Four bucks? How do you sleep at night?

Me: I don't.

*cue cheesy music*

Yeah. I even laughed at myself for that joke. He was less than amused, though, but, I expected nothing less than a guy who paid me in dimes when I clearly saw he had two toonies in his hand as well.

Day one of 12 hour shift, almost done.
Day two, coming up.

Monday, 6 February 2012

Only Six Days In And I Might Have To Break My Goal, For Fucks Sake

Work is absurd with their bullshit right now, and I say that with loads of love in my heart. We're a man down on the desk and I'm far too much of a money whore to ever say no to extra hours, so my boss scheduled me for a 'cover' shift this weekend, and I'm working 12 hours tonight, and 12 hours tomorrow night.
In total, in the next week I will be working at *least* 52 hours.

I already want to stab myself.
But it'll be okay, provided I get to sleep at a decent hour today, which won't happen because I'm supposed to be babysitting the kidlets.
So for the next week I may be a zombie and may forget to post anything super awesome.

Yay distraction?

The whores and pimps better behave this week or so help me god...

Sunday, 5 February 2012

Tattoos Have Magical Healing Powers, A Thank You Note

For me, for all of my tattoos, they will all have deep meaning and easy meanings to explain. You don't want to stand there and explain to every assclown on the street how you got two portraits of your gramma because they remind you that true love does happen, that sometimes what you thought you were meant to do isn't really it, but it opens a path to something better, and that maybe you should take your chance on that shy farmer from the middle of the country. Or explain how you put the word love. With a period on your wrist to remind yourself that cutting isn't the answer, that love will happen for you and you are old fashioned (the font is a typewriter style). No one needs to hear those reasons. Instead, saying you love your gramma a lot, or that you love love, that satisfies most cravings for an explaination. You can always delve a bit deeper, explaining that your gramma is your inspiration for being the best you can be, and that you love writing and you create love with your hands even if you haven't managed to do that permanently with someone in your heart.

This tattoo that I just got, it'll be a bit harder to explain. I'm sure I will get a lot of the ruder comments, as someone has already pointed out to me- it looks like people can visibly walk all over me. I think that comment, that assumption, will always make me angry. I wish tiny feet like the ones I have on my body were around to walk on me, that I helped create the tiny feet that walk all over me. But instead, I have them on me for one main, painful reason. To recongize that I did miscarry, three times in my short life.

I know I'm young. I know I've been through so much that most people twice my age haven't had to endure. It's tough, it's shitty, but it's made me into this strong person that I am so proud of. I'm working on becoming who I know I can be, and I'm fighting to do it on my own terms. It's been in my head though, lately, that I won't have a simple answer for this tattoo. Not that everyone will see it, at least, not until the summer when I'm swimming, but still. Summer isn't that far away.

I asked a friend who knows what I'm handling this weekend, and he said he would think it meant you had three kids, or something. And it's true, in a way. I loved them the second I knew about them, and felt that loss just as hard each time, maybe harder the third time, which is why that footprint is blue and bigger.

I also realised what I'll say when I'm asked why I got three footprints on my body.

Because one day, when the time and person is right, I fully intend on having three kids. And if karma and the fates bestow some sort of luck and appease my desires, the first child I produce and get to keep, will be a boy.

I've had this tattoo for less than five days, and already it's calmed me. I'm still stupid sad and feel... the emptiness that a miscarriage has, but it's not desperate. I can remind myself to breathe through the tough patches, like I'm sure at 6am today I'll have to do. It was at that time, a year ago, that I woke up and knew something was wrong.

I'm shaking, I'm sad, I'm worried about life and what March will bring, but I'm okay. I'll be okay.
I have a lot of you to thank for that. For real. Knowing that you guys read this, however rambly and insane it is some times, it makes me feel like I'm not alone. I'm e-hugging the fucking shit out of you, and warning you now, I may scar your eyes with the tattoo. There's BRA in it, y'all. You've been warned. I may take more pictures later, when it's healed up- right now it's all dry and scabby looking.

Happy Superbowl Day.  

Saturday, 4 February 2012

Instead Of Doing Anything Cool, I Slept

So, I took some pictures of my tattoo, but I want to let the colour calm down a bit more.

Today I did nothing but sleep. It was a staggered, annoying painful ridiculous sleep.
My tattoo is all sorts of uncomfortable, but I love it and don't regret it for a second.
Went out with a friend for some food, which was nice. Distractions and sleep are going to help me this weekend.

Right now it's a movie marathon, beginning with Mr. and Mrs. Smith. Next up is going to be The Notebook (don't judge me. I love Ryan Gosling.)

I hope everyone's having a good weekend!
I know I'm super stoked to not be working right now. I drove by on my way home and the cops were there, so I can only imagine what sort of crap the other audit is dealing with.

Friday, 3 February 2012

Tattoos and Ranting About the Whores

Alright, so, I went and got the tattoo tonight and it's fucking awesome. Hurt like a bitch but I didn't cry, and most of the guys who were in the shop witnessing my bloody adventure were impressed because the ribs are an intense place to get tattoos.

I have one picture but it's shitty and you guys deserve better (and I need to get over my self consciousness about my belly and such. I'm a fucking girl, alright? Jesus) and so I'm going to wait until after the hot hot hot shower and all the dried blood and excess ink is washed off and you can then see it.

I'm going to aim for a blog post a day, I think, in February. I'm already off to a really good start, I think.


Tonight was a goddamn shitshow at work, which doesn't surprise me because I'm in pain and wanted nothing more than to sit quietly and watch t.v. online and have a grand ole time doing NOTHING.

Instead I get the crack addicts making noise, two party rooms creating havoc and drama fucking central with a room that had three girls in it. I say had because one girl came back early from the bar, bawling her face off like G-ma died, and then took all of her friends shit, brought it to the front of the hotel, threw it into the garden and checked herself out.

I sat here speechless through most of the ordeal. Offered her kleenex, called her a cab and checked her out. She was the one who rented the room, was responsible for it, and all the things were technically out of the room, so I could.

Four hours later, the bitches come back. Don't see their things immediately, but when they come back to the desk because their keys aren't working, I point them to outside and tell them to call a cab or pay for a room.

Yeah. I'm a total bitch sometimes.

Naturally, as calm, stable individuals they respected me and the hotel property and left quietly.

Or, instead, what they actually did....

-Freaked the fuck out
-Called their friend to freak the fuck out
-Throw things
-Cry like bitch babies.

Cops hauled them off about an hour ago. I am not dealing with some crazy bitches while my side feels like it's on fucking fire, guys.

I hope everyone enjoys their Friday!

Thursday, 2 February 2012

Bug Part Two and A Dedication of Love To You.

I've miscarried three times.
The first time, I barely knew about it. I know I've mentioned this and I'm repeating myself, but, it's how I process. I slept during a huge family dinner and my family thought I was dying because I didn't realise I was bleeding as badly, but I passed it off as a really bad period and they never suspected otherwise. No one found out about it until years after, when I miscarried the second time and divulged the information infront of my aunt.

The second time, I was with D. I was further along than the first pregnancy, but only about 8-9 weeks. Only made it to the first doctor's appointment, where they set you up with so many pee cups that you basically feel like you should be peeing into them instead of the toilet. I found out while my life was in turmoil, my boyfriend was in jail and I was trying to keep my life together and move the fuck out of a really nice place and into the ghetto hole I could afford. I told more people that time, but mainly because I was completely alone. When I started to miscarry, I drove myself. When I bled so badly the doctors were amazed I wasn't passed out, I was alone. My family was in the States for a wedding, and I had secluded myself to the point where I had only a handful of friends, and most did not drive or had no way to come to be with me at the hospital. It didn't matter, though, really. I was in quarantine because I was super sick, and with the drugs they gave me to stop the fetus from further stretching and possibly rupturing my tube, I was in a less than pleasant mood. The fact I couldn't even lean on my boyfriend, who, was still in jail at the time, made things more painful and made me more aware of my fuck ups than anything.

Bug was the third pregnancy. This one happened... way too soon. I admit to going through things, and dealing with them in a less than classy manner, but, whatever. Ya learn from your shitty mistakes. I got pregnant, I think, the day after my body decided it was healed from the second miscarriage. Did you know that even if you don't have an actual baby in your hands after it's all said and done, your body still takes at least 6 months to 'right' itself? For your eyesight, if it was bad, to go back to being as bad as it was, for your uterus to heal and for your body to be prepared to house another life. I mean, you can do it before, obviously, and it can take a lot longer too, but the average is 6 months. It was around six months after I miscarried and dumped D that I met Rockstar and got knocked up.

I wrote about Rockstar and the getting knocked up bit in part one. I missed the part where my grief for Bug is also intertwined with the loss of my uncle, who died either the week before or week after I conceived Bug. Either way, my entire family, who all knew about Bug because I had lasted almost into the 'safe' zone, they were all convinced that Bug was a sign from my uncle Pete that shit would be okay. That our family would be fine, and we'd have someone to focus on instead of grieve relentlessly, like we've been doing now.

I've meshed that, along with the bullshit that is going on with D, into losing Bug. Those things, finding out everything about D, and losing Bug, they all happened so closely together, in the span of less than a year, that it's really difficult for me to separate everything. I know logically and rationally that none of those things are related, but emotionally, I can't remove each thing. I think this is part of why it's taken me so long to move on from it, taken me so long to accept everything.

When I lost Bug, I had a friend I cared deeply for (still do, even with all the distance because of that event) staying with me. He had flown in from the east coast for a Superbowl weekend, and we were having a great weekend. I was still having cravings for really random, really healthy shit, so he was teasing me for that. We had brought my mattress into the living room so we would have a place to crash, because I was like an old lady who fell asleep halfway through the Superbowl. I remember waking up at 6am the morning after, having to pee, but something felt wrong.

I braced myself, calmed my nerves and crept to the bathroom where I found my underwear soaked in blood and a trickle running down my leg. I cried, but wasn't long or wet tears. My heart shattered, and it hurt to breathe for the next two minutes, while I peed and sat on the toilet, trying to think of where I had packed the pads and what I was going to do. I knew what was happening, after all. Two miscarriages already under my belt, it was something I was familiar with. I didn't really need to go to the doctors, but the pain was pretty intense and I was afraid that a tube or something had burst, so I changed, got shit all packed and ready and woke my friend up.

I hate the fucking nurses at my local hospital. I mean, I undersatnd that they're trying to do their job, but I was going in already with the knowledge I was losing my baby, and my friend, lord love him, was panicking because I wasn't showing emotion. I'm not that girl who bawls unless I broke something, or it seriously fucking hurts. I cry in private, because that's how I roll.

So, nurses were downright cunts, and I waited for four hours before a doctor even looked at my chart. I had lost a lot of blood, but that was expected and I wasn't really expecting anything special to happen. I just wanted to make sure I wasn't going to bleed out, y'know? That shit's kind of hard to get out of the carpet, and I was renting. So, doctor came in, did an ultrasound, confirmed I was miscarrying, and warned me that it was going to hurt because of the size of the fetus. I shrugged, because, thanks tips- further along, I bet that shit's probably bigger. 11 weeks and 5 days, to be exact. I made it almost 3 weeks further than the last pregnancy.

Anyways. I had to sit in the emergency waiting discharge room type thing, where OF COURSE there is a new family waiting, because the baby had a cold or something and the new mom was freaking the fuck out. I mean, karma seriously has loved to kick me straight in the cunt on my good days, kids. The new baby in the room bothered my friend more than me, because I was busy texting and calling my friends and family who knew to let them know. Eventually that was all done and I was still waiting (four hours later, I'd be able to go home), and the New Dad had left to go somewhere (probably get away from his crazy fucking wife) so the New Mom was left alone with the kid. Kid starts crying, Mom picks him up and starts walking, which brings her closer to me.

She makes small talk, and I'm morbid so I explain softly that I'm miscarrying right now. The crazy bitch then asks me “Oh, and they can't do anything about that?” and I look at her like she has five fucking heads. I shook my head, because words could not have been formed at that point. Then she asks me what it's like, having a miscarriage. While holding her newborn son, she asks me this. I, being the ridiculously polite human that I am, explain exactly what happens, and what it feels like. In every detail. To the point where she then backs away slowly, sits down and thinks about it. She didn't understand how I had just 'lost' the baby, but she wasn't stupid enough to ask if I felt sad about it.

Her husband came in halfway through, figured out what I was in for (I feel like a prisoner every time I say that) and took her out as soon as it was clear I had reached my limit of 'Educate the Moron Day'.

I was eventually released, and had gone back home to sleep and bleed, basically.

And then the pain started. Intense, crazy bad, my body went into labour and I wasn't at the hospital so all I had was some Advil. I stuck it out for four hours at home of puking from pain and blood clots the size of my fist (I shit you not, I had to get the plunger because my toilet was ghetto and wouldn't flush a couple of them down the drain) and finally my friend picked me up and took me back to the hospital. My parents had to come then, because they weren't sure if I needed surgery or what have you. I had probably the best nurse and doctor in the fucking place, because they picked up on my morbid sense of humor and sarcasm and rolled with it. When it was decided (oh yeah, WAY TOO MUCH INFORMATION ABOUT MY LADY BITS COMING UP) that they'd have to go in and remove the fetus/sac/shit that kept my cervix dilated and open and profusely bleeding, the doctor asked if I wanted to roll or walk. I chose walk and he warned me if I passed out from the sudden blood loss he'd slap me with a wet cloth. My dad at the time was racing up and down the hall of the ER in a wheelchair, of course.

When my legs were up in the stirrups and the nurse had used my body as a prep table (seriously. I had to help take the shit out by holding all the gauze pads and other shit she needed) the doctor looked up from my junk and confirmed that I was aware I couldn't save the baby. I mocked him and acted shocked, asking him why he couldn't save my baby. He thought I was serious enough for a second that his face paled, but the nurse smacked me and told me to smarten up or she'd make him use the big needle.

No needles were actually involved. Instead, much to the dismay of my local doctor (I guess I should have gone under for it? It was supposed to be a super painful thing?) they did a sort of D&C. I only say sort of because according to people (aka my family doctor and nurses) I should have been put under, so it must not have been that, but to my understanding a D&C is when they go in and take all the shit out so you stop bleeding your blood supply out.

Waited twenty minutes, doctor asked if I wanted the good drugs (seriously. He even winked.) and I said no, I wanted my bed, and clean clothes (bloody, bloody mess. They let me go back to my room after the procedure with the bloody scrubs they had me put on when I got there, so I pretended to be a zombie coming back. My dad, fyi, hates blood and needles. Probably the best part of that whole experience was seeing him faint.) so they released me and I went home.

Worst thing work could have done, was make me take the week leave. I only wanted the extra night off, because I knew I'd be in pain and need to be able to pass out when it got to be too much, but work literally turned me away when I tried to take my shifts back. I love them, but I think I've proven that I overthink shit too much and work would have kept me more focused. So I had a week off, where I laid on my couch and watched Jersey Shore and Days of Our Lives and The Young and the Restless.

I go tonight at 630 to get the placement of the tattoo finalized and to get the tattoo done. I'm only showing/telling people who read my blog and a few friends who know me more 'real life' than you guys. I'm not hiding it, but I am. I love that I'm getting this tattoo, and I'm not regretting it in the least, it's just... this will be one of the tattoos I don't gush about. I have four tattoos I'll gush about, and one that's my 'rebel' tattoo (a black rose on my leg- it means more than me ignoring my mother when I was 18, but to explain all the meanings takes too long) but this tattoo is more... for me. It's going on my left ribcage, because my right side is taken up, and it'll be the first tattoo I get that has any colour to it.

Three footprints, two smallish, one mediumish which will be light blue. I'm super stoked for the actual process, it's been almost a year, but I'm also excited to have it. I just hope no one tries to tackle me or anything, because that will hurt like a mother fucker.

I love all of you, by the way. You guys are amazing, and fantastic, and reading everything you all say, has been awesome. Thank you for being here, and being my friend. I'd cut a bitch for all of you. Ninja style. 

Wednesday, 1 February 2012

Bug, Part One and a lot of other rambles

A Chicken Burger from Burger King.
No lettuce, just mayo.

I knew as soon as I had that craving, as soon as he left to go grab food, that something was up. And then I started trying to count back to find out when my last period had been. I've always fucking sucked at keeping track of that shit, but I always use condoms so it normally wouldn't have been a concern. Except for that one time, in a moment of ... passion? Whatever, stupidity, in the hallway before we could make it into my apartment. Apparently whatever karmic substance likes to fuck with me, decided I would get knocked up that night. I take full responsibility for that night, and for giving in. Shit happens. Whoops a babies happen.

Rockstar was a man who helped me heal from what D had shattered me into. I never had any disillusions that Rockstar and I would end up happily ever after. I wasn't looking for another relationship anymore than he wanted to date me. We had fun, and fun was all it was meant to be. Me getting knocked up threw everything into a fiery burning mess. He turned cold and cruel. I rose to my stubborn bitchy self and refused to back down when he pressured me to get an abortion. I gave him every out possible, told him that he could walk and I would never look for him again.

I meant it. I wasn't overly thrilled I had gotten knocked up, but, I've wanted to be a mom since I can remember. I'm a good fake mom, and I had and still have a job where I could support myself and the babe. I wasn't some teenager who had no education, however stupid my choices had been over the past year (then).

I remember telling Rockstar about Bug at work, in the stairs of my work, because he called during the Christmas party.

Today and this week, all I can think of are the friends who surrounded me with love, but also doubt and negativity. I'm finding the desperate amount of sadness is overwhelming me, and because of who I am and my character, it's pissing me off that I'm this sad. That I haven't been able to move on from it. I mean, fuck, it's been almost exactly a year. I've had two other miscarriages before Bug, and I can accept that maybe I wasn't supposed to have a kid just yet. So I need to buck up, and stop looking so fucking miserable.

Everyone's noticed, by now. It's annoying, because I'm such a private person that more than half of my Facebook friends, and friends outside of this place, don't know I've ever been knocked up, let alone suffered a miscarriage at 11 and a half weeks. So people are asking why I'm different, what's wrong, and they want to help. No one can help right now. I'm having those conversations again with myself, I'm containing the sad as best I can, I'm letting it out when I can and I'm surviving. You ask me how I am today? I say I'm surviving. It's not an invitation to as me what is wrong, or why just surviving, or to make some asshole comment about how I'd survive better if I was on top of you.

My entire body aches. My heart hasn't stopped hurting, and this week it feels like it's exploding. I have hatred towards my best friend, whom I live with, because she's going through a rough patch with her happy family and made the mistake of telling me a couple days ago that I was lucky I didn't have kids, that I'd be a moron to ever get knocked up by someone. I get that she's going through things and I know it's stressing her out, but I nearly clocked her. She saw the look in my eyes and kind of walked off.

Never fucking tell me that I'm lucky, or better off, or that kids are a mistake. I will gut you. I don't care what sort of shit you're going through, I don't fucking care that life gets stressful sometimes or that money is tight. You get to hold a precious fucking life, in your hands, and they are yours. No one, unless you treat them like absolute shit and CPS comes to take them, can take that away from you.

Ask any mother who's lost a baby. Any of them. We will all fucking cut a bitch for saying their children were mistakes.

It makes me scream, on a daily basis. I know how tiring and frustrating they can be. I've lived with my best friend since before the new baby was here, and when my niece was just a baby, they lived with me and my parents for six months. I took night shifts where I woke up with Ella, I would wake up in the mornings and take her so my friend could have some time to breathe. We shared the duties, far beyond me just watching the kid for a couple hours. I'm not as close to the new baby or my other best friends kids, but for my niece? I'd kill for her. I'd throw my body infront of something to save her, no questions asked. I'd probably do it for the others, but I'd probably try to find a way to save both of us, y'know. For Ella? No hesitation.

This week, I'm testy. I know this, and I'm trying to limit the exposure of it, but I hit a point during the day where I don't fucking care.

I bought a onesie this time. I had names. I had a plan, and I expected this shit to stick and for me to have an almost five month old in my arms, not to be alone. It hurt, but it also hurt my whole family. They all knew this time, so they all knew when I miscarried.

Fun fact: When I get really stressed, I normally go and get tattooed. I've known for a few months what I want, responsibility and lack of being awake during the regular human hours has made me hesitate. I'm sensing that responsibility shit cracking, though. Who knows, I might do it and upload pics.

Updated before I even posted it in the first place: Thursday, 630pm. Bitch is getting a tattoo.

I've been strangely calm and better, knowing this.

Month end was a whore, as per usual and the other hotel that has the same name as me in my city had no power, so I got a shit ton more work to do because of it. C'est la vie.