Dead Eyes

Everytime I pass the mirror today I see my reflection and I cannot help but notice that there is no life in my fucking eyes. I have been a zombie for the past few days and the mouse keeps running on her wheel and its all I can hear and I think its tipping the bad chemicals into my brain at lightning speed. The paint on my toes is all chipped but the idea of painting my toes hot pink today is so fucking ludicrous i can only look at my feet and laugh because it means that at some point in the past few weeks I was happy enough to paint them hot pink. I couldnt smile if somebody paid me a buck. Which is more than I have in my wallet. My dead best friends brother across the street is having house parties all week and I cant help but get pissed at the sound of people having fun over there because I know if she was still alive we would be partying and her little brother would only be allowed to have a couple people over. And we would have reign of the kitchen area. I keep meaning to watch a comedy to lighten my spirit but when I get into the On Demand menu I go for doom and gloom. I cannot get in touch with my boyfriend because neither of us has operating cell phones and I cant call his grandmothers house this late and he cant call my parents house this late and if that isnt the most pathetic thing you've ever heard I dont know what is. I just brushed my teeth in an attempt at being human and got toothpaste all over my shirt. Today is only Thursday. I have nothing planned for the immediate future except for a wedding on the 15th that I wish I didnt agree to and no money to do anything until I get my second to last unemployment check next tuesday. I got one of those lumps in my throat you know the kind that dont go away. I wanna cry and I cant and its gonna be there until I do. The days keep passing me by and I miss my apartment and beng able to see my bf everyday and not having the constant worry that I am going to make my mom mad. I did some writing on paper earlier that was so fucking dark I folded it up real tiny and hid it under my clothes in the closet. I thought maybe if I purged onto paper I would feel better but obviously not cause here I am publicy purging and I still feel crummy. So Im gonna shut the lights off so I can't see my blank face in the mirror and maybe tomorrow will be a little better. If not the mouse is being moved out to the garage since I blame all this on the incessant sound of that fucking wheel.

Phrases that need to die..

1. "What happens in Vegas stay in Vegas"

I swear to fucking god I hate this phrase more than any other in the world. I hate it even more when people replace Vegas with whatever location they are talking about. Such as "What happens in the closet of my upstairs bedroom, stays in the closet of my upstairs bedroom". Just leave it alone. If any of my friends were to ever utter this phrase after returning from Las Vegas I would immediately question their worthiness of my friendship.


2. "That's Hot!"

You are not Paris Hilton and you shouldnt want to be. To say this is the equivalent of saying "I have no brain and therefore cannot think of any other way to express my feelings for whatever it is I am talking about." Also Paris Hilton I raise my middle finger to you for contributing to the dumbing down of America.


3. "See you next year!" (Often said as an employee leaves work on New Years Eve)

No you will not see me next year you will see me the day after tomorrow. Yes it is technically a New Year but the time elapsed between your exit from work on New Years and your return from work on January 2nd has not equalled a year. Also, you are not the first person to come up with this witty idea, so just let it rest. If you feel the need to say something as you leave work why don't you try "Happy New Year" or even "Goodbye".

4. "Shit Happens"


No shit huh? If this is the only response you can come up with after someone tells you about their troubles then sympathy is obviously beyond you. Instead of saying "Shit Happens" you could say "look, thats too bad that you are having a tough time with things but I dont have any advice for you. Stop bitching to me and go whine to someone who cares."


5. "Coulda, Shoulda, Woulda"


I first heard this one when I was playing cards with one of my uncles. He said it everytime someone said "Oh I shoulda folded" or anything like that and he would say "Coulda, Shoulda, Woulda" and I was like 'Yeah I know thats what I just said'. It just seems to serve no purpose except for rubbing it into the persons face who didnt trust their first instinct. .


6. "Money doesn't buy happiness"

Until I am in a position to truthfully say this myself, I don't want to hear it.

7. "You can't have your cake and eat it too"

LIES! Yes you fucking can have your cake and it eat it to. I have never met a person who bought themselves, or were given a cake and were not allowed to eat it. Where did this phrase come from and why do people still use it.

The Sickness

My skin literally feels like what you might imagine a lizard with cooking oil all over it feels like. My nose and throat like a vaccuum cleaner bag exploded in my face while I was yawning. I want to go home and lay down but the bed will just make my bones hurt worse. The ground outside is covered in shit colored snow and its so fucking cold out that the sentence "motherfucker its is FREEZING out" is all that goes through my head. When I cough I can taste remnants of cigarettes and other shit that was inhaled days ago. I hate being sick. I hate being sick I hate being sick. Go away sick. Stop now. I swear Ill sleep better and start wearing a jacket just leave me be.

Public Transportation Sucks

Wake up, brush teeth, head out the door, gross orange pill under my tongue, cigarette, bus, fuck off, Curry, time check-late, "free metro", "no thanks, got a book", waiting waiting, Train rolls in, frantic seat hungry asians, read my book, hide my face under my; hood, sunglasses, and pages, Wollaston, North Quincy, the long haul to JFK where my back feels like its breaking, "two more stops Liz hang in there", "South Station change here for commuter rail and silver line", Ahhhh so close, Hike up the very steep steps because its good excercise and then curse myself for not taking the escalator, too early in the morning to be pushing my body so hard, Next set of steps I take the escalator, cigarettes and lighter ready, cold blast of air "Free Boston Now" , "No thanks, Got a book", "spare change Miss" "sorry wish I could help", three blocks to work, comfort soon, hang in there, sit at my desk and feel the awesome relief in my lower back and put the space heater on, Lunch time, no money, no shit, 5pm time to leave, blast of cold in my face, cigarette, "spare change" "im broke sorry", "Free Boston Now" I just wave my book in the face, charlie card-not enough funds, no shit, scrape together some change, train, fuck off, Quincy Center, Donuts smell so good, laugh to myself abnout how pathetic not being able to afford a donut, bus, Curry, walk up the hill in shoes that are soaked, temporary home, walk upstairs, change, lay down. Ten hours until its time to do it all over again. Fuck, my life is so repititous, if thats even a word. Just plow through the next two months and things will be better.

Grievances

Grievances...(work in progress)
Red light Seekers- I have gotten used to the fact that I am going to have to sit at many a long red light in my life. Its sucks but it's a fact. I have even tried to put a positive spin on it and use that time to clean the passenger seat of my car or check my bag to make sure (for the 9th time of the day) that I am equipped with chapstick. Its not the red lights that I have the huge problem with although I do hate them, Its being stuck behind someone who is trying to get the light. We've all been there, you drop your cigarette in between the seats, your trying to find a CD, dialing a phone number etc.. And you need a minute to focus so you wait until you get a Red Light to get your shit together but because the Lord works in mysterious ways, you don't get a light. In fact when you are waiting for a red light, that is the only time you will hit every Green Light on your trip. I swear though, more and more so, I have been getting stuck driving behind somebody who is trying so desperately to get a Red light that they actually start slowing down at the approaching green light. It makes me crazy, I want to scream and throw a tantrum and drive directly over their car to get through the light, but it happens. I solemnly vow that if I ever get the urge to listen to Hurricane at that exact moment but cant quite reach my Neil Young tape underneath my seat and I see my chance at a light that is coming up I will not make the person driving behind me suffer through the boredom of the light just so I can get what I want. Unless that person looks like a douche bag.
My Advice: Check for cars behind you before trying to get the Red, If there is anyone behind you, then you lose, you can hear the song later, Or you can slam on the breaks in hopes that the impact will move all the tapes under your seat up to your feet. Also if a light has just turned Yellow and you are coming up on it, go through it You have about 4 seconds until it turns red and this way you can give the person behind you the decision of whether or not they want to blow the light.

Starbucks, Panera, etc.- Okay I am sure that some genius in the marketing department thought up this whole "lets call them our 'guests' and find out their names" thing thinking that it would make the customers feel more welcome and at home, but No it just makes me Hate. I am speaking for myself here, but I am sure that there are others that agree that calling me your "guest" is obnoxious. Yeah, I suppose I am a "guest" in your restaurant but really, I am just a customer. I'd actually prefer it if you just looked out into the line of people and shouted "Next". But this whole "Can I help the next guest" thing, really fucking wears on me. Also I don't want to give you my name. I think that's getting a little personal for a food/money transaction. It doesn't help that nobody can EVER understand me when I say "Liz" I almost always end up with a receipt that says "Lynn, Louise, Lisa" so really if your gonna fuck it up why ask at all. Cant we go back to the days where I was assigned a number and a recording announced my number and I went up and grabbed my food. Now I have some friendly little Portuguese woman gently whispering "Lisa" over and over again until I finally hear her and realize she means "Liz" and she is talking to me. My Advice: If your going to commit to something you better really commit. If I really am your "guest" then you are my concierge and I expect you to comply with any of my orders. And make an effort to look at my mouth and listen to the sounds that are coming out of it when I tell you my name. LIZ. Its three letters and it's a pretty common name. When you are assigning tasks to people at the start of your day, Panera Manager, please pick an Ex Cheerleader or someone who can raise their voice past the "Im just a scared immigrant and I don't know what this says so I am going to whisper it" volume because if she has a hard time reading and saying "Liz" then she is gonna have an even harder time pronouncing "Ichbeinensteikler" which is what I am giving as my name the next time I have a craving for your delicious soups.


Thinking of a Number Guy- Go away. Seriously, Stop it. Please stop being on the TV. Please stop having Red Hair. Please stop annoying the piss out of my boyfriend. Please stop making me have to leap out of bed to change the channel when you come on which is every motherfucking commercial break. Please Stop existing. GO AWAY.


Talking about the Weather- I know this one has been beat to death but I have to complain about this. Okay Listen up Everyone in my building at work, mailmen, UPS guy, Employees, Xerox technicians, Maintenance crew and Security, Here is the thing.. In order for me to get to work I have to go outside of the building I sleep in, Get into my car, drive on the Highway, park my car, get out of my car, and walk into the building I work in. I can guarantee you that at some point or another I have noticed the weather. Please, please, please Stop telling me what its like outside. I know I am the receptionist or whatever and I am the first face you see when you come in to the office but that shouldn't mean that you have to burst at the seems with your Wit and attempted humor at "this crazy weather were having" and "only in New England" bullshit. Just because I am only a receptionist doesn't mean you have to humor me with mind numbing banter about basic dumb shit. Ask me how I like my eggs or what my opinions on the Death Penalty are or just completely ignore me. But please enough with the weather. You can't possibly imagine how many times I hear the same sentences uttered day in and day out.


Dirty Shirts & Fluorescent Lights-. When I get ready in the morning I take approximately 6 minutes. 4 of which entail me staring blankly into the bucket that all of my clothes are in and the other minute and a half is spent screaming profanities about dress codes (more on that later) leaving me with just 30 seconds to get dressed so I never really examine my clothes before putting them on. I just assume that they are clean and stain/smell free. It seems like though, when I get to work the lights in my office pick up on some things that normal lighting and natural sunlight failed to show me. I then have to spend the entire day wearing my jacket or positioning my arms in ways that cover the coffee stain that is dribbled down the front of my shirt. Also annoying, Smells. Spending a whole workday trying to identify a smell on your clothes that you aren't familiar with sucks. The things you start to think of get weird. "Hmmm I guess it smells a little like an old orange rind that was used for an ash tray but somebody got lazy about putting out their cigarette so they poured the milk they were drinking into the orange rind ash tray" Is an actual smell I spent a whole afternoon identifying. Oh and socks, forget it. I only have two pairs of black socks and work five days a week, you do the math.
My Advice: For the love of all things pure and good in this world LET ME WEAR JEANS AND FLIP FLOPS. Why oh why do I have to wear hideously bad clothes to work. There are never any big important things going down in this office that I need to look nice for. Most days I don't even see anybody except for the Weather Fairies who drop in to tell the lowly reception girl who lives under her desk what is happening at that precise moment out in that big scary world, and I don't think they care what I am wearing. Although I am sure they want to dress me in Gollashes, Rain Coats, Sunblock and Umbrellas. So why do I have to wear "Business Casual Attire". Ewwww. Ewwie Ewww. I would get here a lot earlier everyday and be in much better spirits if I was allowed to wear The Liz Furlong Uniform which consists of, a Black Tank Top or T Shirt, Jeans, Flops. Nothing too racy, nothing offensive, Just comfy casual clothes. But No. There I go everyday seething at the world for forcing me into a pair of black flats and dress pants. I hate you Cruel Business Casual.

My Teeth- Really Teeth, really? Not enough for you yet? You haven't started to get bored with the whole Lets kill our host with insufferable pain thing. I look at my teeth as a separate entity these days and for this reason only; I cannot imagine how something that is part of my body could possibly cause so much pain. I just cant fathom how something that is in me, hurts me so much. So I decided that they aren't my teeth. They cant be. They are the teeth of someone who I hurt or killed in a past life. They are ghost teeth and they hurt me because of something awful I did to the person whose body they were in. Well I guess a more reasonable explanation would be that my Dentist up until age 22 kind of sucked at his profession and did some ridiculously expensive work on all of my teeth that he totally half assed. But when I am in the throes of a multi teethed toothache and I Am hysterical and crying in pain I find it easier to blame Ghost Teeth instead of Dr. Barron.
My Solution: Go back in time to the previous life and find the person whose Ghost Teeth are haunting me with. Apologize profusely for any wrong doings offer to buy them dinner.
Banana Craving- I'm sure this has been covered before and if not than I am gonna give some ideas here that maybe a fruit vender or entrepreneur could take to the bank. Sometimes you get a craving for a Banana, and you weren't expecting this craving so you didn't prepare for it by buying bananas 5 days earlier. Now what do you do? Go to the grocery store and purchase bananas and wait a few days for them to ripen. Yes. That's what you do because that is your only option. The only place I have ever seen bananas that were ripe in the store is in the 7E or Tedeshci's and that really isn't a place you wanna get your fruit. I guess that goes for most fruit that has to be ripe like Peaches, Plums and Pears. Maybe there are stores that have these fruits in a separate basket for the people that want them "To eat today" and another basket "to eat Tomorrow" and then one more basket that says "ready by the end of the week" But I haven't seen that store.
My Advice: Open that store

That Creepy Indian Guy- Okay look, Owners of Red Apple Liquor Store, I know its your store and its family run and whatnot but seriously does you ancient Uncle or brother or whoever that Creepy Indian Guy is have to work there. I know its like family and cultural tradition to take care of your family and share the wealth and whatnot but couldn't you give him a job in the storage room. I'm not even sure what That Creepy Indian Guys' job is there all I know is that he follows me around and he stares at me. Literally, just stares at me. And sometimes I don't know what I want when I get into the store. Is it a Hefeweizen night? Do I feel like Coronas? These are things I like to think about without the watchful eye of the That Creepy Indian Guy hovering and waiting for me to make my move so he can run over and rearrange whatever I have touched in the fridge. And why is it that I have Never ever seen That Creepy Indian Guy without a bucket and Mop but I have never ever seen That Creepy Indian Guy actually mopping? Is it like a crutch or something? A prop maybe? Do you even know who That Creepy Indian guy is, Owners of Red Apple or did you just assume he came with the store when your family bought it? Because I have never seen any of you talk to him or look at him.
My Advice: Ask That Creepy Indian Guy what his deal is.. Maybe check out your Payroll information and see if he works there, maybe do some family tree research and find out if he is a member of your family. And for the benefit of your customers maybe tell him that lurking around near them and watching them with That Creepy Indian Guy look in his eyes might make them a little uncomfortable.