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.

Life Choices Will Always Come To Punch You In The Mouth, Kids. Always.

I'm not just talking about the unfortunate dress you wore to your cousin's wedding, either.
Life choices are going to affect us in so many future years that you cannot properly control everything.
I'm willing to admit some bad life choices on my part, a lot of bad ones actually, but I figured ever since Douchebag, my life was turning its shit around.
Clearly, Douchebag and his shitty life has yet to be done with me. He is ruining my life now, without even fucking trying.

Without going into details, because it's such a dramatic and long story and shows how bad my judgement was two years ago, my last ex boyfriend is going to be standing trial for something horrible in March, and I get to testify against him. Which isn't that bad of a thing, because I want the fucker to rot in hell, but it completely fucks my Move Away plans.

I'm going to the courthouse today to get more information and if the likelihood is that I'll be in court for more than a few days, I'm pretty confident I won't be moving away, at least not yet. No supervisor/big boss is going to take a chance on someone they do not know, fly them to a remote location and pay them money only to have them be gone for who knows how fucking long, over something that is questionable at best and shows how bad my judgement was and makes them rethink hiring me at worst.

I'm hoping if I don't get to move this year, I'll be able to end things on good terms with the Inn and maybe reapply when my life isn't so goddamn 80s soap opera. I'm looking at you, Victor Newman.

On a completely related note, Month End was tonight.
It was smooth like a newborn baby's bottom, people. I take it as a sign from the Month End Gods that they are being forgiving and understand my stress levels are two seconds away from shanking the next skank to come in here.

I do have a hilarious story about drunks and escorts, though.

Saving that for next time.

Happy December, kids!

Hotels and Halloween Part One

Let me start out by saying Fuck. This. Bullshit.

I just finished the easiest month end ever, so I'm clearly suspicious and waiting for this place to burn down or someone to come in and demand I perform sexual things on them. Something drastic has to happen every month end, because.... well, it does. Without fail, every Month End has had something go horribly fucking wrong. Normally it's one section, and when it's not that, it's something else. Like my pool flooding, or the power going out. Something.

This month, I thought I was safe. I tricked myself into a stupid sense of comfort.
Month End balanced.
It was nice and easy.

Two hours after I finished it, it occurred to me that it was almost too easy.
Then the heat broke.
So I've been freezing my lady bits for the past four hours, huddled up in this office with (and I shit you NOT) my breath coming out in little puffs like Rose on the wooden door after the Titantic went down.

I thought that was it. I thought that was my big break down of the month, and I ACCEPTED IT.
Stupid.
Next month, someone slap me and tell a bitch it can get worse, because, my friends, IT DID.

The brand new hot tub, which I cannot remember if I've written about yet, but I will if I haven't, basically decided to tell me to bend over and take it tonight.

It's been giving us attitude like a mother fucker all week. Leaking water, not staying warm enough, throwing temper tantrums and then conspiring with the doors in the pool area to not open so I'm stranded from stopping explosions....

Tonight it upped its game.
I am actually impressed with it.

Tonight, it was a sneaky little bitch.
About an hour ago (yes, I fixed it- bandaid on a gun shot kind of fix, but still) I heard this god awful screeching.
Dying cats mixed with battered babies kind of screeching.
Not a sound I hear every night, so I clearly went to investigate like a good little girl.
It was the hot tub. Spraying water against the windows that surround 3/4 of it.
From the parts of the hottub that don't.have.nozzles.
Me, Captain Safety over here, went in to the pool area barefoot, and walking quickly.
Guess who almost fell into the pool?
This chick. (fucking hilarious, btw.I almost want it on tape so someone I know can blackmail me for something later)
So, Captain Safety continued her trek, figured out the problem and tried to solve it by filling the hot tub up with water.
Increased the pressure to the leakage instead.
Fan.Tast.Ick.
Ultimately, that bitch is now shut off,
but I'm soaking wet. I look like a wet dog and smell like chemical deliciousness.

Less than an hour to go, at least.
Happy Halloween!

Month End Hell

It's that time, kids.

Month End. The bane of my fucking life, even though technically, TECHNICALLY, I am not doing it this month. Because tomorrow is Actual Month End, and tomorrow is Friday. I do not work Friday's, normally. But of course, because I am the Full Time Audit, I tend to do Month End all the time.
Which means that I have to pretend like tonight is audit, so the part time audit (who has been here longer than me, used to be the full time audit, and generally knows more because oh hai I am the youngest audit ever in this hotel's history, and he is old enough to be my father. But no, let's make me do more work because he clearly can't remember the last 10 years of his audit career and the world will EXPLODE if I don't make sure everything's good.to.go.) can do audit without a hitch and just make sure tomorrow night balances up.

I hate Month End.
Hate. So. So. SO. MUCH.

In my other blog, before I moved to the much nicer and better blogger, I had a Month End rant. It explains why I loathe this one day out of the month more than others. So in a blatant “yes I'm stealing from myself but really is it stealing if it's yourself? I think not.” move, I'm copying the highlights from there. No use in me retyping all that nonsense again.
Now, you must think I’m over-exaggerating on this. I assure you I’m not, but I wouldn’t assume you’d take my word on this. Just a sample of the shit that has gone wrong on a month end night for me:

-Nothing Balances. This is common. I’ll have everything up until the last week, or the last day before I walk into work 3 hours early to start month end paperwork. Everything has balanced, but during that last day of the month, someone fucks the shit so badly that it will take me up to five hours to find and fix the problem. Cursing like a trucker is not uncommon on this night, which is why the earplugs are necessary for little Susie sleeping down the hall.

The Drunk Toddlers Really, if I need to explain this, it’s already too late for you. These boys have been trained as best as I can manage, but sometimes my month end will fall on a Wednesday or Thursday and I can’t control them then. They come in, they try to pee on the plants and throw uncooked steaks on to the desk, they come around the counter and try to get a feel (and subsequently feel my knee in their family jewels),… month ends on a Wednesday or Thursday are charming. ETA: I will explain the Drunk Toddlers once my toe stops bleeding*

Power Outages Are the bane of every persons existence when they are at work, I’m sure. Even on a good day a power outage will fuck up my life at work. On Month End, though, when I have to get everything done and if I can’t play with shit on Opera (the operating system for the hotel) my night gets royally fucked. It’s like surprise butt sex when the power goes out, and no one likes that.

Pool Floods Worst night of my life. Hands down. Only New Years Eve has rivalled this month end, last May. We had just installed the new liner in the pool and the pool guys said that everything was good to go, so they filled ‘er up and left me to my own. I was contending with a Month End that didn’t balance, and it was a tedious sort of fix, when my feet felt…wet. The pool is on the other side of the lobby, through the sitting area and restaurant. Panic does not begin to describe my emotions when I realised they had left the water on and didn’t tell me to turn it off after a certain time. Five hours of dealing with that, and month end had to be done. It was a long night.

Also,

I realise you cannot tell how long it took me to write all this.
2 hours.

Not because I am a person who types slowly, or lacked anything to say. Oh no.
Two freaking hours because tonight, people sense that it's a mock-Month End for me, and are breaking shit left right and center.
*Also, I may or may not have just broken my pinky toe because I moved to quickly to go fix a blown fuse.

The things we do...
Happy end of the month to us all!