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13 July 2015, 11:28

Oh lordy it’s hot. It’s 90 degrees in here.

Trying to do treadmill when its 90 degrees sucks hard. It’s slow going. So it’s resty time. I’m a third of the way finished. Who knows, I might decide I’m all the way finished.

And welcome. IPs from South Dakota and Wisconsin, although I think Wisconsin is a bot. I have a slow, growing audience. Sort of. And as always, all you Chinese bots, welcome. Mao sucks donkey balls. There. That guarantees that’ll be filtered out for the Chinese.

It’s hot and the AC is out. Two things you learn when the AC is out. One is that I’m am a first world, spoiled, entitled, pussy. Second, is that your landlord and her lacky AC guy will try and blame the burnt out fan motor on you. I’ve asked him directly what was the deal and all I get is unintelligible, southern mumbling. That automatically puts me a slighty tizzy, and knocks me in defensive babbly mode. “We turned it off after it shut down” whines me.

Getting sick of not knowing what’s going to happen. I have a big interview for a big job Thursday, Doug is just about ready to chuck all of this because he says his job sucks (although he keeps getting promoted and getting raises). I want to work. Or I want to drop at least 10 more pounds. Either one would make me feel better. I have some positions brewing, who have shown interest in me, and they are taking their time in getting back to me. I feel like just getting in my underwear with some ice cream and giving a big ole “SCREW YOU” to the world, stray passersby, and the air conditioner.

More resumes are being sent out, more exercise is being contemplated, more options on hari kari are being considered. This was short, and I may be back to add a bit, an inconsequential bit, but to end, I’d like to think of things that went right today:

• AC guy actually showed up.

• Dogs didn’t actually BITE the AC guy.

• Bloom County is back.

• I got a mile done on the treadmill, before getting the sit-the-fuck-downs

• It’s not 100 degrees yet (only 90)…


Man. That sucked. And that was only about 15 minutes on there. Today will be one of those HARD MONDAYS. It is now (checky-check) 95 degrees up in this bitch. Extreme heat always gets me gansta. Gotz to be some off dah chain kinda motherfuckin’ heat to cause a chunky, middle-aged, white girl to talk like Flavor Flav (if he was a chunky, middle aged white girl). I think its the climbing neurosis that’s making the workout REALLY hard. AC guy didn’t give me a straight answer on the fixin’ of the AC, so I’m all suspicious that him and the two-faced landlord might be cooking up some deal that will put the blame on us for the breakage of the 25 year old air conditioner, because, she’s broke and probably can’t pay for the repairs. Thusly, blame us, because we are loaded down with extra gold bullion that we don’t know what to do with. Dougie is not answering my continual nagging about what is exactly going on at his work, because apparently his frustration level there is causing a “FUCK THEM, SEND OUT RESUMES” situation. I’m not hearing back from the two or three positions which last week said “Hey, we still are interested in you…” (Yeah, I know it’s only Monday) and I have an interview type thing with a company in Greenville Thursday at 2 pm. It’s going to be 100 degrees Thursday. It’s an hour and 42 minutes away. Oogie on top of Ughs.

Got some good feedback on my resume. A couple of “I’m impressed” and “exceedingly talented” burbles. That SHOULD make me happy. I think if it was followed by “OF COURSE, come work for us for a lot of money” that would put the skip in my step. The old company I work for seems to be monetarily bleeding out the butthole and this is extremely funny to me (a big wave of schadenfreude comes over me when I read it): http://www.indeed.com/cmp/Roya-Foods. It’s little comfort when I think of the toilet swirlies taking that job did to my career. Taking that job may have single handedly set me back 4 years or so and it’s got my name attached and associated with fraud and failure. I can’t blame myself entirely. Sometimes con-artists are very good at what they do, that’s how they can continually do it.

Okay. Here goes another try on the tready. Maybe I’ll be back. If I don’t vomit, fall off the treadmill and die.


Okay. After thinking about it. I’ve decided that’s enough treadmill for today.


Okay. No. Didn’t quit. Got 10 more minutes to go for my hour of crap to be done. At this juncture, I don’t know if it’s the endorphins kicking in (I hope the hell so, thank jesus), but I’m actually not worrying too much about the aforementioned above and it feels like I could do another hour. I’m not at happy-numby-brain, but at Batan-Death-March-Mode and pretty much oblivious to all outside stimuli. It’s crazy how my legs don’t even feel tired or achy or anything. They are like swinging pieces of beef jerky. Press on the calves and there is no soft dough and now it’s starting to spread to my thighs. I wish the rest of me would get with the program. But, add more cray cray (thanks Larry Wilmore) to that, I’m not even really winded or hurting. I have to do about 45 minutes of this shit to get that way, which is the problem. Then after that, it’s a problem of psychological motivation that is the obstacle. I have ten more minutes to go.

AC guy has absconded with the broken AC fan motor, and I doubt I’ll ever see him again. I would like a fucking nap. Not just a regular nap, but a good goddamn motherfucking one.

DONE (finally)