angry... very very angry

i'm mad at myself for moving here without a plan.

i'm pissed off at WHORES.

i'm pissed that i bend over backwards for people who in the end just push me down instead of help me up.

i'm pissed you don't call when you say you will.

i'm pissed that i feel like i'm living under a microscope.

i fucking hate myspace today.

i hate this city.

i'm mad that a district manager can't do his damn JOB.

i'm annoyed with the "just be patient" bullshit.

i'm fucking tired of being lied to.

i hate double standards.

this weather is stupid.

my car is dumb.

i need a fucking haircut.

i want new clothes.

i don't want to see another bill from the hospital to add to my already $25,000 bill. (FUCK!)

i want my job back.

i want my boyfriend back.

i want my happy life back.

i'm tired of bills and people calling me about money that i obviously don't have.

i'm thankful for the people who are willing to work with me.

i'm pissed at the people who won't.

i'm tired of games.

i'm so fucking annoyed with having to be humble and ask for help. I FUCKING GET IT GOD! ENOUGH ALREADY!

i'm tired of false friendships and people who only care about themselves.

my neck hurts.

my back hurts.

my allergies are retarded.

i hate the army.

and i'm especially mad at YOU!

YOU = a few people

i'm cranky.

i'm irritated.

i'm bitchy.

i'm extremely impatient.

i'm just really really really ANGRY!

i think you're ugly.

i hate your hair.

you need to fucking grow up.

i can't stand your attitude.

you're just an idiot of epic proportions.

you deserve to be castrated.

you have no backbone.

you're a bitch. and so are you and you and you and you.

i'm annoyed and you're an asshole.

you suck.

you swallow.

you need to learn english.

you need to learn everything.

and i need a hug.



fuck.

yeah, i'm THAT girl

yeah, the one who drops her cellphone at least once per day on a hard scratchy surface.

the one who will at one point or another in her life put on and wear her shirt inside out and backwards until someone points out that she is indeed wearing a grande shirt from old navy with the tag as her necklace.

the one who will burn her eyelids forgetting sunscreen on the little parts.

the one who has probably fallen in a very public place and taken down someone with her.

the one who trips over air, stains her jeans on the grass, and proceeds to live life as usual.

yeah... i'm a clutz. i've dropped cameras, gotten mysterious bruises (that have sometimes been deemed the unidentified drunken wounds or UDWs), stepped on toes with 4" heels, crushed animals tails', smashed a finger or five in a car door, broken dishes, broken toes, broken nails for no apparent reason, and so the following might surprise you...



today... i waxed my own eyebrows.

what possessed me was the surprisingly low balance in the vault.

and the urging of a dear friend who has faith in my ability as an accident extraordinaire to overcome! beat the odds! NOT WAX OFF AN ENTIRE EYEBROW!

to target i went. i sought. i bought. and stared for a week at what could be my latest and greatest victory of clutzdom.

i read the directions. 3 times. and while applying the thinest layer of adhesive eyebrow destroyer...

i read them right.

i started with the right. non-expertly applying wax like a 5th grader smearing VERY Red on everything but the lips. and it was rippin' time. so i ripped. and then i had to rip again and again and again because the thinest layer was where the actual hair was and so then i tweezed the wax particles from the remaining offensive brow area. repeating this again and again on the right offender until the perfect arch and hairlessness was achieved. but SHIT! there's TWO!

on to the left. and this is where our story really begins. the left eyebrow waited patiently. happily blowing in the breeze. or something. and when it came time. it gobbled up the wax like it was normal to have a missing eyebrow. now i didn't remove the wax from this particular area as i would have been left with skin and the horrible job of drawing on a normal looking brow. i read the directions for the 32nd time and found that baby oil removes unwanted wax. hooray! or not. after vigorously applying baby oil (with which much relief i found in the newly organized plastic storage container) i realized my friend the wax ball was not gonna budge. so i continued but this time using my nail with the baby oil to try and pry its dirty little grasp off my brow without actually removing it. after 10 minutes, the wax was (i think) removed and all is well and good with the arch. glasses on!

oh. my. god.

only a perfectionist freak will notice. or an expert waxer. but while i still have two. there are definitely TWO. not identical twins but not quite opposite either. a light brow drawing will ensue later.



but i think my mission was successful. i still have two eyebrows. (goal 1) they look *almost* the same. (similar to goal 2) i didn't wax off an eyelash. (maybe this should have been goal 1?) and no animals were hurt in the experiment.



VICTORY!

Let's do the HOKEY POKEY!

You put your heart in!

He rips your heart out!

Your put your heart in!

And you pick yourself off the ground!

You do the Hokey Pokey and you turn your life around!

That's what it's all about!!



You put your money in!

They take your money out!

You put your money in!

And you watch your debt go down!

You do the Hokey Pokey and you turn your life around!

That's what it's all about!



You put your soul in!

He works your soul out!

You put your soul in!

And your knees go to the ground!

You do the Hokey Pokey and you turn your life around!

That's what it's all about!



You do the HOOOOOOOOKEY POKEY!

You do the HOOOOOOOOKEY POKEY!

You do the HOOOOOOOOKEY POKEY!

And that's what it's all about!!!!!

i'm JUST saying...

i'm the girl that says what everyone else is thinking.

unfortunately for me that means i'm not PC and you know what? i'm actually cool with that.

every time you turn around there's a new name for something that's considered inappropriate or in some way disrespectful.

we'll take me for example just because i can laugh at myself and i'm not that uptight about most things...

i make coffee. in the days of yester (yes i'm making shit up) they would call me a coffee girl or starbucks lady or whatever. but now we get a fancy title... BARISTA! what the fuck does that even mean? i mean it's cool and shit but still... necessary? not really. i'm sure at some point someone will get offended because it's not actually english and we'll evolve into something even more obscene and PC like coffee artists or caffeinated brown beverage assemblers. so instead of applying for something simple... you'll now have a 4 very long word description.

i can talk about this too because i was a secretary once and had no problems with that either. but ok... we have "Secretary's Day" right? but we can't call them that anymore. they are "office assistants". how the fuck does THAT fit on a balloon? Happy Office Assistants' Day??

i don't know. i've never been in the business of ass kissing. i mean the thought of changing who i am to gain something because i've offended someone seems odd to me. i mean if my comment was made in the pure spirit of evil then yeah, fuck me! what a bitch! and because i'm totally sweet i'll more than likely apologize. BUT if i'm joking around... lighten up! for real. and for real i mean seriously. not lying. you need to release your political chains and LAUGH for crying out loud.

with all the talk of people hating politics these days... why do we then strive to conform ourselves to be POLITICALLY CORRECT? if you really hate politics would you not rebel against these ridiculous titles and just lighten up? just saying...

cuz if i have to scroll through one more job site with ONE MORE PC title for waitress... i'm gonna fuckin' scream.

i realize that this blog makes me look ADD but i am right now and that's ok too. because job hunting sucks, especially when there are 50 jobs to choose from for 700,000 unemployed people. and scrolling through site after site after site after site of 12 different ways of saying we need waitresses... i just got annoyed and had to say it. i'm not PC. just keep it simple. not because i'm stupid but because i don't have time to try and figure out what you mean by "experienced, friendly, motivated, hard working, food service coordinator" only to find out it's a waitressing position. WHAT IF I WANT A WAITRESSING POSITION??? what if i google "waitress positions in michigan" and because google can't understand what the fuck you're saying i miss out on a cool job? damn you people and your PC bullshit.

what the fuck did i just do?

so this could be a drug induced depression, but i kind of doubt it.

moving back here, to michigan, i now remember why i left in the first place. for one thing, it's SHAPED like a mitten, which automatically should tell you that it's fucking freezing. (oh there's going to be profanity by the way, if you're not into venting you should move on) another reason i left, there are still no jobs here. and by no jobs i mean... you can't apply to 15 places and then have the luxury of choosing among 5 great opportunities. within one week of *visiting* hilton head, i had been offered 3 jobs and had done a double interview for another. here, i'm lucky if i get eye contact when i turn in the application.



hilton head was a dream for me. an accomplishment of a lifetime. to move somewhere by myself, for myself and to succeed. i had contacts, friends, references, hangouts, success, and freedom. i was, i felt, important. my family missed me, and i missed them. missing holidays wasn't fun and going through hard times, sometimes alone, wasn't a party either. long distance relationship? not good for the sex life and definitely not good for mental health. but i still had something else to reach to if one thing went awry. missed my family? it's ok... i could hang out with friends and laugh and things would be ok again. the holiday would pass and it became just another day.



but now... what am i? jobless, homeless, purposeless, and what? nothing. please don't misunderstand homeless. i have been independent for a long time. i've had my own place, a place to be kallay. somewhere to hang my pictures, to spit my toothpaste and whoops, i forgot to rinse a bit off the sink. but it's MY sink so who gives a fuck? i'll clean it later. i have a roof over my head, a bed to sleep in, cable tv, internet access... but none of it is mine. i am not ungrateful, nor am i regretful. everything in life happens for a reason. but i miss it. if i moved back now it would be different. the dream job has moved on. the condo is someone else's home. my importance will have wilted.



so now what? pick up, move on, be happy with what i have and be thankful for the people that have provided it for me? sure... sounds kind of like the end of a movie. or the beginning of one where you watch someone struggle through shit to get to another peak. excuse me for not being excited about starting over. again. for the millionth time. in a mitten.



a mitten where i don't have any close friends who know lots about me and understand my sense of humor and want to be in my space. a mitten where jobs are few and far between and where you have to put on a song and dance to get hired. (read: lie, lie, LIE your way into a position HOPING you really do have what it takes) a mitten where applebee's is considered a fun night out for dinner and "those other places" are for the rich people. call me a snob, but whatever.



i've lived to see the other side of the fence and let me tell you, it's fucking greener. better food, nicer people, easier friendships, and greater financial freedom. there's honesty out there. there's less chatter about other people and their lives because they had their own shit going on. people are emotional and they aren't afraid to share their hopes and dreams with a stranger. i know more about strangers in hilton head than i do some of my nearest and dearest in michigan.



but there was no affording a $1200 condo without a roommate and a job that wouldn't let me have another job. especially since my car decided to jump off a bridge and commit vehicular suicide and leave with me it's debt. bitch. moving back to the small town mitten was the only option other than eviction and bankruptcy which (haha) is sounding kind of more like fun right now.



having a plan and then getting told... sorry you're having surgery! is annoying. but not like debt collector annoying. it's like flat tire in the rain with a dead cellphone in the middle of nowhere at 3 am and no money annoying. it's a shit hand to be delt. particularly when you were told your insurance was still intact for another 13 weeks only to be told by the hospital admin. AFTER the surgery and upon checkout that uh-oh.. they were just kidding. (or had no fucking clue what they were saying) so COBRA it is and the bills keep getting higher. add that to the rent you have to pay alone and the termination fee you have to pay alone, the $223.41 carpet fee you have to pay alone, the higher car payment, the insurance, the cellphone, the student loan, the debt, the OTHER hospital bills for when you KNEW you didn't have insurance but your mom said *don't worry about it* and then a year later you're being sent to collections and fucking worrying about it.



my family, god bless them, doesn't have to miss me anymore. so now they can go back to ignoring me and rolling their eyes at yet another kallay debacle. i'm good at these. the last one was more interesting and less common for the common majority so that made it even more family reunion worthy. (you know when you whip out the best stories of the past 5 years to share with people you call family but hardly know) it hasn't been long but things haven't changed much here. i have but i'm being forced to stuff it all back in and go back to being the baby. my mom's still selfish, my grandma's still a saint, my sister's still a bitch who could qualify for june cleaver if they ever needed a replacement and my borther in law is still man of the year. good for you guys. i had something happen in my life that was not in my control, but somehow they will find a way to make it my fault. i had surgery but i should be in a good mood because we're having a birthday party for my sister. sorry but here's your card and i'm going to vicodin land without sorrow. i'm in fucking pain and for a person with a high tolerance for pain, that should say something. but of course i'm over reacting and i'm a drama queen. because i'm the one who always makes a big deal out of nothing. (as i wipe the sarcasm off my brow) enough about them, that could take a minute.



moving on to brighter subjects.. my boyfriend. lovely as he is. he's busy. and annoyed. and fucking cranky. and while i understand all of these things... despite the utter mess of a pollack painting that i'm in... i'm still happiest when i can talk to him. when we can just relax and have a beer and watch a movie or a game and just chill the fuck out. but this is rare and that annoys me. it annoys me to the point of wondering. am i the one for him? (here's where i get stupid and start worrying about someone else's happiness over my own... watch this!) do i make him happy? does he feel *better* being around me? does he want to be better being around me? does he learn from me? will he grow with me? i don't usually ask if someone else is the one for me. i've been married twice and that's because i was so afraid to lose them, i married them instead and then wised up and threw both of them to the curb because they were assholes. if that's not honesty, i don't know what is. so i don't ask "the one" question. i don't need to. at this point, if i'm with you... then you make me grow. you have something that i'm learning from. but because i also have that whole heart on the sleeve disease (read: i've watched too many romantic comedies)... you can treat me like shit and i'll stick around to see if anything changes. i'm sick like that. it's what makes sensible girls like me fall in love with the losers. we're not stupid, just way too naive. anyway, ed's not a loser. he's good people. he's funny, he's smart, he's a great father, intelligent, and kind when the mood strikes him... but he's also some other stuff that you don't need to know and i need to figure out.



so yeah i'm a head case at the moment. i'm ready to work but my body is laughing at me. i feel like the world is. and that's depressing. but not sylvia plath depressing. more like, i need a bottle of wine, a tub of HD ice cream, and a miracle depressing. i miss what i thought was my home and had greater expectations of moving back here. this mitten's got a whole in it and i'm missing my shoe.

LOL! New nicknames arise...

1. YOUR REAL NAME:

Kallay

2. YOUR GANGSTA NAME: (first 3 letters of real name plus izzle.)

Kalizzle

3. YOUR DETECTIVE NAME: (fav color and fav animal)

Pink Puppy

4. YOUR SOAP OPERA NAME: (middle name, and current street)

Anna Lakeview

5. YOUR STAR WARS NAME: (the first 3 letters of your last name,
first 2 letters of your first name, first 3 letters of mom's maiden name.

Carkacar

6. YOUR SUPERHERO NAME: (2nd favorite color, favorite drink).

Periwinkle G&T (hahahahahaha)

7. YOUR WITNESS PROTECTION NAME: (Mother's middle name and father's middle name )

Anne Andrew

8. YOUR GOTH NAME: (black, and the name of one your pets )

Black Hercules -or- Black Woobie -or- Black Maddie!