The Valleys Ain't So Great

On Wednesday, my boss told me that she no longer needed me to do the Runner job at the car dealership where I work. She said that there wasn't enough for me to do and that I was spending to much time idle. You know how sometimes when someone lies to you, you have that experience where you know immediately that you are being lied to? I had that experience Wednesday. I was so mad that I couldn't speak. I just grabbed my stuff out of my desk while slamming the drawers shut and rushed downstairs to my part-time switchboard operator that I still have (thank God). When I got down there to relieve the full-time switchboard operator she took one look at me and knew that something was wrong. She asked me if I was ok and I said no that I was definitely not ok. Then, she hightailed it out of the dealership. Then, I broke down in tears. I can't believe they did that to me.
Here's the thing: The office upstairs has 5 people, not including the owner's daughter and my boss. One of these people is the title clerk who is about 70. He NEVER does any work. He plays Solitaire and Hearts on his computer mostly and talks on his cellphone. On the odd occasion he does actually do some work, he makes so many mistakes that it takes someone else extra time to fix them when it isn't even that person's job. Now, I don't have a prejudice against old people at all. It's just that I don't understand why the dealership keeps paying him NOT to work. I talked to one of my best friends about all of this (as it happens she works with me and is the one who has to correct all of the title clerk's mistakes) and she seems to think that my boss will have him doing the work he was supposed to be doing, mistakes and all, AND my job as well. Tell me how a 70-year-old man is supposed to work two jobs? My dad is nearly 70 and he can barely walk without assistance. I don't think that's fair to him and I think it will probably make him sick, since our immune systems gradually decrease in effectiveness as we grow older. It's also not fair to me. My boss told me that I spend too much of my time "idle", which is total bullshit. I had so much to do with that job that I barely got to take a lunch. To clarify: the Runner's job at the car dealership where I work is the person who personally takes messages, bills, bank deposit runs and basically whatever else anyone in the dealership needs. I would routinely take the bank deposits (hella large sums of money) and go to the store for office supplies, go to the lawyer's office etc... THEN, when I wasn't running around in the Runner car doing errands, I had mountains of paperwork to file. My lunch was usually taken in the car on my way to or from somewhere. One day I spent 2 hours at the damn DMV because of Old Man Title Clerk and then had to go back that same day because of the mistake he made. He also sent me 30 minutes out of town on an errand to the WRONG PLACE. So, to say I was "idle" is clearly a gross understatement.
I fucking HATE office politics. I don't know why people can't just come to work, do their damn jobs and go home. It seems like every time I get a job I actually like it turns to shit because of this. Am I cursed or what?

Also, yesterday, I had to go to my dad's apartment because he said he wanted me to take this stray cat he had sort of adopted to the Humane Society. Evidently, the cat (non-neutered male) had gotten into a fight with either a cat or a dog and had gotten pretty messed up. When I saw him, I thought one of his back legs was broken and he had open sores on his neck. Going back a bit, this cat had pretty much always had open sores on his neck. They would start to heal and then somehow get opened up again. I told my dad to put some antibiotic ointment on it, but his hands shake so much that he really couldn't do it. He refused to get the cat any vet care. His excuse was that he thought the cat was going to die anyway. I couldn't believe that he took the cat in but refused it any medical help. He just sat in his recliner and watched the cat deteriorate day-by-day. I tried to take it to the Humane Society, but they wouldn't even let me inside the building. One of the gardeners when inside and came out with a little piece of paper with some numbers on it that he said were other organizations that could help me. I called every number and no one answered their phones. I left voicemails, but I knew that the cat needed immediate medical attention. So, I called the Animal Services center, knowing that if they couldn't/wouldn't help him that they would put him to sleep. When I got there, they made me sign some paperwork that I later realized was for me to surrender him to them. A man took him back to the vet and then a different man came back and gave me back my cat carrier and then was just going to walk away. I stopped him and asked him what the vet said. He told me that the vet thought the cat either had Feline HIV (FIV) or Feline Leukemia and that they couldn't afford to let it spread though their kennels so they were going to put him down. I didn't think that was very fair to the cat, but since I had already surrendered him, there was nothing I could do about it. I cried and cried and cried. I gave myself a fever being so upset. I got a call back later on that day from one of the other organizations I had called and the lady I spoke with told me that FIV and Leukemia were treatable in cats and that they usually lived a long time with that treatment. That started a new wave of crying. I felt so bad for letting them kill that cat. I realize that it might have been the humane thing to do considering that my dad wouldn't have taken the cat back even if he had gotten healthy and considering his health he would have been very hard to place in a home, but I still felt like a monster for doing that. I spent all afternoon in my room yesterday and I turned my phone off. Eventually, I called my dad back and told him what had happened. I also told him never to ask me to do that again. It might seem silly to be so upset over a cat, especially one that wasn't mine, but I can't help it.

I guess bad things happen in threes just like that old saying.

Brother Man

The other night my friend/ex-boyfriend, Ryk, came over to hang out with me. I mentioned offhandedly that I've begun calling my cat (whose name is Brother) Brother Man. He said, "Watch out, he'll start trying to sell you drugs." I really expect him to start growing his afro out any day now.

A Few Things...

I AM SICK OF CATS THAT AREN'T MINE. I'M SICK OF CATS IN HEAT WHO KEEP ME UP ALL FUCKING NIGHT SO THAT I HAVE TO GO TO WORK ON ONLY A FEW HOURS SLEEP. I'M SICK OF FRIENDS WHO OUTSTAY THEIR WELCOME AND TALK DURING MOVIES JUST TO DRAW ATTENTION TO THEMSELVES. I'M SICK OF SELF-ABSORBED PEOPLE. I'M SICK OF PEOPLE WHO STAY WITH ME AND DON'T GIVE ME ANY MONEY TO HELP OUT. I'M SICK OF PEOPLE BLEEDING THEIR PERSONAL BULLSHIT ALL OVER ME AND THEN GOING OUT TO BE SELF-DESTRUCTIVE AGAIN ONLY TO THINK THEY CAN COME BACK AND BLEED ON ME AGAIN. I'M SICK OF SHARING MY PERSONAL SPACE WITH OTHER PEOPLE. I'M SICK OF BEING NICE WHEN I WANT TO BE A BITCH. I'M SICK OF HOLDING EVERYTHING IN BECAUSE I'M SUPPOSED TO BE NICE AND SUPPORTIVE AND ALL THAT BULLSHIT. I'M SICK OF LOVING PEOPLE WHO DON'T LOVE ME. I'M SICK OF BEING LIED TO. I'M SICK OF THINKING ABOUT SUICIDE EVERY FUCKING DAY. I'M SICK OF WANTING TO CUT ON MYSELF ALL THE GOD-DAMN TIME. I'M SICK OF LOOKING AT THIS FUCKING MESSY HOUSE. I'M SICK OF SMELLING CAT SHIT AND PISS. I'M SICK OF CLEANING THE COUCH CUSHIONS EVERY FUCKING WEEK. I'M SICK OF MY BED SMELLING LIKE CAT PISS AND HAVING TO CLEAN THE MATTRESS ALL THE DAMN TIME. I'M SICK OF BEING TOO EMBARRASSED TO HAVE SOMEONE COME INSIDE MY APARTMENT. I'M SICK OF BEING SCARED OF EVERYTHING. I'M SICK OF BEING FAT. I'M SICK OF ME.

Wake Up Play

Holy Eight-Legged Exoskeleton, Batman! It's Click and Comment Monday!

I feel:: surprisingly well. I wonder how long it will last?

This morning, after only being able to sleep for about 4 hours due to the stress of this thing going on with my financial aid (I'll have to post about that later when I don't have visions of storming into my financial aid counselor's office and doing her some major bodily harm along with the requisite derogatory curse words aimed at her self-esteem. Suffice it to say, I'm pissed.)I went to the kitchen, like I normally do to make my morning coffee and feed the cats. I tried not to notice the clock on the kitchen stove with it's red numbers flashing 5:30am (I went to bed, or rather I fell asleep around 12:30-1:00am-ish).

I went to pick up the cat bowls, which by this time were all over the kitchen. I don't know how they manage to scoot them around like they do. I find them in the weirdest places, like between the fridge and the cabinet where we keep our endless supply of empty Wall-Mart sacks so that we don't have to pay money to use the expensive itty-bitty trash can liners (Y'all do that right? Tell me y'all do that and I'm not the only one who has a horde of Wal-Mart sacks.).

Anyway, I picked up their water bowl, which is quite large, actually I think it's meant to be a dog bowl but when you have 4 cats you have to have a large water bowl. So, the first thing I see (and believe you me this was a stomach churning incident especially since I had not even had my coffee or my meds yet) is this HUGE, HAIRY, DEAD SPIDER floating in their water bowl. I swear, I almost vomited (remember me= bugphobic). I looked at my next to youngest cat, Mija, who is notorious for finding things and dropping them in the water bowl and asked him, "Did you kill this and drop it in the water bowl?" only to have him look at me innocently from his position atop the kitchen counter. (Just a side note: I talk to my cats like they can understand me and like they could actually respond if they wanted to. I know it's weird, but I'm an uber-cat person. Besides, I think they understand more than they let on. *suspicious*)

So, with much shivering and being totally grossed out, I fished the spider from the bowl and put it in the trash, then thoroughly cleaned the water bowl, refilled it and put it down for them. The other three were so grateful that they immediately all gathered around the water bowl and started to drink like they hadn't drunk in days. So, my suspicions are confirmed: Mija is the culprit. He also steals my hair ties and drops them either in the water bowl or the dry food bowl alternatively. When he drops my hair ties in the dry food bowl, he only eats the food that's inside the circle of the hair tie. I have come to the conclusion that I have an obsessive compulsive disordered cat. You should see how much time he takes just to clean his paws.

Just for a reference, here's a picture of Mija (btw, I named him that when he was 6 or 7 weeks old before I could tell he was a boy. If I had known he was a boy, I wouldn't have given him a girly name. Maybe that's the source of his strange behavior-he's gender confused.):
Mija somehow squeezed himself in between the space of my slide out keyboard thingy on my desk and my desk. Don't ask me how he did it, because he weighs 15 pounds.


So, it's Click and Comment Monday again. This is a thing that was started by Cat (Living With Multiple Personalities) to celebrate bloggers and their renters. I don't have a renter yet this week, so pick someone from my list, check out their blog and leave them a comment, then click on their renter or someone on their blogroll and do the same...so on and so forth. Try to do at least five today. I've found that I've made some new friends via C&C Monday and I know you will too and plus it increases your readership!



Also, I'm using Mr. Linky's Magical Widgets (see below) so when you leave your name and blog addy be sure to leave me a comment and I'll come to your page and give you one!