I’m unemployed. And for a bull-shit reason and I was framed.I mean, technically, I’ve only been suspended until Monday when HR makes a decision whether or not to fire me over a $2 pair of god damn socks. But even if they don’t fire me, I’m fucking quitting. Since this all went down, my boss has allegedly been talking shit about me, telling everyone I steal, that it’s all on camera and how I betrayed everyone. Awesome, dude. I never stole. I never cheated. I gave a kid a pair of $2 socks and paid for them myself later. I never lied about this situation. I was completely upfront and don’t think what I did was wrong. But, allegedly, I’ve been stealing for months and am a completely immoral and unethical person.

So I went on a little bender/movie marathon this weekend, punctuated by the occasional resume sending or cover letter writing. I don’t want to work retail management anymore. 

I’d just like to take this moment to say a very special Fuck You to my printer, which decided to stop working in the early Friday morning hours after I had just sacraficed all of my sleep for the night to homework. Fuck you, printer.

Thanks for not printing my essays at 5am. I thoroughly enjoyed staring into that little blinking green light of yours for 15 minutes hoping, just maybe, that you’d eventually just give in and work.  That stand-off could have lasted several hours (I never back down), but as my caffeine supply and patience was running low, I decided I’d just have to hit the library before class. Only I didn’t get to the library before class, did I?  As soon as my head hit the pillow, at approximately 5:30am, some asshole bird starts fucking screeching outside my window. I’m not sure exactly what time I finally fell asleep, but I do know what time I woke up. And that time was way after my classes had started, or 10:53am.

Buzzed.

I just spent over $25 on energy drinks at 7-Eleven.

I have to pull an all-nighter tonight.

I work a nine hour shift tomorrow.

I’ve consumed two 24oz drinks in the last hour.

My face feels kind of tingly.

I think I was involved in a serious accident as a child and blocked it out. Really.

I recently bought my annual pre-summer tanning package so I can hit Lake Washington in a few months without blinding my fellow boaters, and not look so lobster-esque after a few hours in the sun. While I love being tan, one unfortunate side-effect is that it highlights the fact that I have a lot of little scars. On my hands, arms, legs; a result of being a scab-picker and incredible clumsy child.

So the other day I get out of the shower, and I’m checking out my tanning progress and I notice all these little white spots across my ribs, starting under my left boob and extending down across my left side. Hundreds of little scars. What the fuck? I mean, they’re not gross or disfiguring or anything, they actually look kind of cool. I just want to know how this happened. Did I fall off a swing and skid across the gravel? Pecked at by a flock of crows? Am I a leper in remission? Or are they just rare albino freckles?

It’s probably the result of a particularly itchy patch of Chicken Pox, but I kind of wish I had a cool war story to explain it.