December 12th, 2013

2013, cyd, new

i'll talk doc into it.

i'm in a foul mood today. a couple of reasons.

i've just started getting good sleep again. but it involves laying down a lot. i can't fall asleep right away, it takes a couple hours. so for a couple of days i've been laying down a lot and getting good sleep. and doc decides last night that is unhealthy and i "must" stop it. fuck, he has spent the last few months complaining i'm not getting enough sleep. i can't win.

the scooter broke down on the way to doc's work last night. so he was two miles out and the scooter dies. he called me, and the heat was on and my phone wasn't in the room with me, so i didn't hear the first five calls. by the time i talked to him he was nearly frantic. he told me he didn't know what to do. so i calmly thought about it and told him to stash the bike and come home. he got mad at me over that and started yelling, obviously not what he had in mind. i don't remember the rest of the conversation, i tuned out after he yelled at me. i hope he didn't tell me something important.

and then i got an hour and a half's sleep. not enough. i got a 2 hour nap yesterday afternoon and 2 more hours in the evening. and then another hour and a half. five and a half hours is NOT sleeping too much. and if i can't fall right to sleep, what's that to him? what the fuck else have i got to do while it's so cold except curl up with the animals in a quilt all snuggled up?

meanwhile, when i'm up i clean the fuck out of things. so what is he complaining about? and i hate the way he acts like i've been doing it for weeks or something when it's been two days. he's got to lay off of me. he acts like everything i do is a symptom of some larger disease that is encroaching on his inner peace. so i'm crazy. so my legs bounce, so i'm having a hard time falling asleep. i've been having problems falling asleep. except for the past two days, instead of sitting up and being a zombie, i've laid down. i see no harm in that. fuck him.

i'm making myself mad now. thinking about it. i should just calm down and put it out of my mind. he is going to be home in 5 hours and he is going to need support.

i finished pinning up my studio xmas tree. it's a tree shape on the wall made out of photos of the xmas tree closeup, with a picture of the topper at the top. it's really cool. when i get the lights on it, it will be even cooler. i think i figured out what i did with the screws for the shelves. i just have to brave the cold and go out and look.

it's supposed to be 56 degrees today. that's more like it. i can go out and hang the shelves and work on doc's half of the garage.

i want to get as much done today as i can. dorkface, i mean B will have to come over to fix the scooter bike. i want him to see the garage is permanently out of his reach. so he stops bugging doc about it. now if he will just fix the scooter and stop trying to get doc to buy his moped. can you see doc on a moped, dinky little Viet Nam traffic thing? no, that will just not do.

doc got heckled on the scooter the other day and i was filled with such rage. he is about 30 pounds on the heavy side, not even that, maybe 20, he's tall. so he's tall and he's not svelt. and some twatwaffle called him a "fat bitch" out of a Prius the other day. he told me about it and i was ready to hunt her down. NO ONE calls my doc names. psycho cunt called him a fag one day and i told her to shut the fuck up. she thought i was being a queer concious and objecting because she used "fag" - i had to explain to her, slowly and using small words, that no one calls doc names. not even me, and that's just the way it was and the way i was going to keep it.

okay, granted, i call him Dick. but that's more of a pet name. "jerk" is when he really knows he's in trouble. but i don't call him names, and no one else should. he's better than that, you know what i mean? he's just in a place above that. it isn't right. i'm still on this level. i get barked at by mexican workers. that's just the way it is. he's beyond that. he doesn't think so, but he is.

and that same bitch would have flipped him off in the truck for having such a big gas guzzling vehicle next to her wee Prius. so with some people you can't win. welcome to the USA.

okay, the xmas carols are doing their job. i'm calming down and getting happier. maybe i'll watch the Muppet Christmas Carol and put the cherry on top. oh, see the Osmonds are on, how can i not be happy? all those healthy teeth singing at me . . .

back to an above sentence: " i get barked at by mexican workers" - what the fuck is up with that? okay, i'm know i'm not pretty, but when i leave the house, i try to make myself presentable. but it seems every time i go out, i get shit from people about my looks. and i'm sick of it. no wonder i don't want to go out. and i don't think i'm that hideous. that's why i take so many selfies. i search them for the marks that tell them i am ugly and open to be mocked. i don't get it.

i've been told i look like "Keith Olberman in a blonde wig". it was said in anger, but it really haunts me. and all this is without me opening my mouth and showing off my biggest flaw: lack of teeth. i feel like a toad.

it's the main reason the cam has been off mostly lately and why i haven't been on it at all. and no selfies. i'm appalled by how ugly i am in the sleep pics doc takes of me and the animals. i really need to dye my hair. my roots are getting me down. that's the problem with being a blonde. a bottle blonde, that is.

doc has stopped enabling my xmas exploits. he said there's no way he's shopping on a limited budget for "disposable" food like fudge and cookies and candied nuts. but i can make a grocery list of "real" food.

i have no idea what i want. here we come upon another bone of contention betwixt doc and i. my eating. i'm not in the mood to eat. not even the cookies, i was going to send them out as gifts, but i don't have the postage money for it. i'm just in a fasting place. i don't want to put anything in my body. he doesn't get that. and he is constantly yelling at me and chasing to me to eat. what did i eat? what am i going to eat? why am i not thinking about eating like he is? i don't have to eat three or four times a day like he does. once a day is usually enough for me, if i'm hungry, i'll eat more. that's the thing, if i'm hungry, i'll eat. no big deal. if i don't eat for a couple of days, the world is not going to end. i am not going to die. or even get sick or irregular.

these little nagging things he does are driving me crazy today. they are his only real "flaws", he makes a big deal out of my small behaviors. he watches me too closely, it makes me uncomfortable. he knows at all times how much i've smoked, how stoned i am, when and what i last ate, when and for how long i last slept and hopefully what i'm planning on doing in all those areas in the near future. it drives me nuts!

okay, everybody who is reading this, wish really hard for me, i entered to win $30k from the local news station i watch. you can only enter from your IP once, so it is kind of fair. they are announcing the winner on the New Year's Eve show that i planned on watching anyway. that would pay off all our debts, including my student debt, fix the truck, pay rent through the end of the lease, and get me teeth and leave enough money for a Dickie's wardrobe for doc for work. i've done the math. it may be enough to pay the rent for longer, or to get the SUV fixed. i don't wish for much. as much as i talk shit. but i'm wishing for this. i've been entering a lot of contests lately, figuring i can't win if i don't enter. it hasn't done me any good so far and i get way too into wishing.

i see contests as gambling or the lottery. except "free" (there's always a price to be paid, most often, information given up). but just as useless and a waste of time. but something my nana told me years and years ago came back to me about it and so i started entering contests. am i turning into my mother? i have to see her and make this determination.

i have to know if she's mellowed. i have to know if losing and failing with all of her children has chilled her evilness out at all. i doubt it has, but i'm open to the experience. like i said, my dad didn't seem weird. he even said we don't have to hang out with them. maybe they've changed. i wonder. what would they have changed into? not my grandparents . . . though . . . they have been travelling a lot. someone is funding that. they got one of their dogs, an irish terrier, after they got back from Ireland, my dad said. and i know they went to Disneyland over the summer and on a cruise with my nana. someone's got money . . . i want teeth. i wonder if those two things can come together. after all it was their shoddy treatment of my teeth that led to this.

i feel mercenary feeling this way, but those people took and took from me for years and i want something back. for now i'm happy with a box of ornaments. for now. i don't know if i'll stay that way. i'm trying to get the nerve up to ask my nana to fund a road trip for me out to see her. on the bus, of course, i don't expect her to fly me out like she does my mom. i'll take the bus. i just want to go see her and hear stories of her travels and get to know her as an adult.

okay, i've got stuff to burn and label and archive. i'm trying to make myself busy so i stay up and don't lay down. so i've decided to do the dreaded archiving today. and i have a couple of presents to finish up. and then to wrap and to find a box for kelli's stuff. she's getting a bag of mint m&m's and 11 DVD movies and 5DVDs of mp4 files. she's also getting cookies, and maybe fudge if i can swing it. i'll talk doc into it.