Outgoing Text Messages

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6:01 p.m. please put a gun to my head and end this misery

6:04 p.m. this is ridiculous. and people wonder why I hate my job!

6:07 p.m. i would give allot. like, my life savings allot, to not be here.

6:09 p.m. not only am i eating dinner with eight loud drinking women, but there is a pervert staring at us.

Last night, I was literally forced to go to this vile company get-together. Now, company get-togethers might be slightly more bearable if there were a cute guy from staffing to flirt with, or even a UGLY guy from staffing for that matter. But it is all women. Post menopausal women. Who drink like fishes. And don't even drink classily. We are talking beer straight from the bottle at the dinner table, draining glasses of wine before your dinner even gets there and drinking oddly colored hard drinks with... your bread.

Their copious drinking and smoking is quite evidenced in their looks. Weathered skin, frizzy hair, stained teeth and a general tinge of "life bit me in the ass" look about them. I have nothing against people who have had hard lives, what I do hold against people is a lack of dignity, manners and class.

A certain low point of dinner was when one co-worker, who used to be a alcoholic and heavy smoker, half way through her second bottle of beer, plucked the cigarette out of someone elses hand and took a heavy drag on it. And then, handed it back to her. Without batting an eyelash. Like nothing had happened.

The other low point to rival that was the Pickle Spear Deep Throating Contest. While it is rather self explanitory, I simply want to say seeing women over fourty participate is rather nauseating. The winner slyly commenting "You can now see why I have been married three times."

Good times were NOT had by all. I was the first to leave. I was, in fact, so miserable and afraid I would see someone I knew, that I did not wait to pay for my check at the table. I sought out my waitress and hid behind a potted plant while I waited for my receipt.

I went home, took a very, very hot shower and prayed to God I did not catch a STD sitting at the same table with them.

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This odd narrative is my life. I ended up in Pittsburgh, of all places--from the beach. I have no hobbies, other than cooking excessively and eating microwave popcorn. I enjoy shopping, the Food network, hiding the remote so the Food network cannot be turned off, find ethnic food stores and restaurants and reading voraciously. My life is decidedly pedestrian.

I worked in the car business where I was required to be ruthless and soul-less wench, which is when I started this project. Since then, I've kept it up because secretly, I've always wanted to join the military. Every male in my mother's family has joined and I quietly entertain thoughts of joining. I haven't yet and don't know if I ever will, but sending the troops cookies keeps me sane. it makes me think I still have a shred of human kindness left in my withering soul. it's a small way for me to salute the men and women who are brave enough to fight for freedom. And makes me feel like I'm contributing toward troop morale--even if I'm not. So if you want to help, send me addresses of troops you know stationed overseas. you may also contribute toward the cost of chocolate chips, but don't feel obligated, that link is here only by request.

the past


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