My knuckles are so raw from the cold, from constant hand-washing, and from even more constant waterless alcohol-based sanitization at work.
The puppy just keeps gauging her claws into my hands every time she struggles against me putting her down in her housebreaking papered area. I’m like, dang. I look like some sort of person who doesn’t care about their appearance with my hands like this. I keep my nails looking good still, even more so really, but I still feel so gross. I don’t want these awful cuts to get infected, either–and it is incredibly nervewracking when your ””work””’ revolves around handling ugggh money, and touching people’s groceries, and their hands, and their ugh their mouths and they just use pens to clean their ears and shit some girl actually did that in my lane USED a PEN to clean BOTH ears it was another cashier actually ;____(
she was asking me if my nails were real, and she didn’t believe me. so she further investigated them and came to the correct conclusion (ya theyre real :+) but still it was just so gross she’s all digging in her ears using a pen that customers had in their hands at some point, and will have in their hands again at some point
oh and the babies and kids, don’t get me started. Number one, they’re walking biological waste depositories. Number two, they scream constantly. Number three, when they aren’t screaming, they’re looking at me all gape-eyed. What do you want from me, kid? Do you stare at everyone like this, or did I suddenly become a PIXAR animation version of myself? Am I doing anything wacky or zany? Am I an anthromorphic cat? Nah,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,, so stop giving me the wonder-eye. It is sort of off-putting; but also cute, I must admit. I try to be a hardcase, but I like kids, and I like that they always seem to like me. At least in some alien, staring way.
I don’t know if I’ll ever have kids, though. I don’t want to have something living inside of me; the entire idea is completely gross, no doubt. Same reason I wouldn’t swallow any sort of living food, or drink any variety of living beverage. Not to mention I’m not that good with babies, I don’t know how to hold them (isn’t that a thing women should just innately know? because I have zero clue. I’ve tried, and the baby will manage to squirm away from me within a few seconds. I’m limpwristed, and I know how weak their stupid little necks are STUPID BABIES GRAARRRG) also, the screaming just is too much for me, the near constant noise and all very high pitched and treble’d.
I’d like to maybe just adopt a kid, a real honest kid, one over the age of 5. So they’re starting to get independence, and they most certainly can speak. Once a kid can speak, I’m perfectly fine and really enjoy spending time with them. I can have fun with, reason with, correct and entertain a child that can speak. Until then, they just make me nervous.
THIS IS SOOOO IMPORTANT IM SOOOOO GLAD I’VE BLOGGED THIS OUT I MEAN BLOOOGGGIIIIN
paul anka’s cover of wonderwall is really great, sounds like it was written for him–or rather, written to be performed in a jazzcrooninswingin’ style.
i wish i was going to school, and I wasn’t so afraid to go back. I don’t even know where to start anymore…I shouldn’t have ever started working, maybe? I don’t know. By my age, my parents were married, had me, moved away from their families, my dad was in the Navy, and my mom was pretty much all alone–except for little baby me. Poor thing, all by herself. I’ve been too hard on her, all my life. I can’t imagine doing what she did at my age and christ, younger even. I don’t know how other people do it, whatever it is that they do. Yeah, I have no clue where to go, or where to start, or when to start, or what I want, or how to get it. I guess a lot of people don’t, though. I just feel so lame. I see every other cow-eyed dullard coming through my lane, and they seem to be happy enough. They have someone they’re in love with, no matter how ill-tempered they are, no matter how little they care for themselves, no matter the dullness, humorlessness, the interest in NASCAR…and yet, there they are, happy and put together with one another. The people I’m meant to love and
“”"”"”"”"”"”"”"”"”"”Share my Life”"”"”"”"”"”"”"”" with probably just autoerotically asphyxiate around age 12. WAH WAH YOUNG ADULT PROBLEMS WAH WAH TRANSITIONING INTO ANOTHER LIFE PERIOD WAH WAH THINGS RRR HARRRD I NEED 2 LOSE A JOLLY HOUR ON THE TROLLEY W/ HIS LITE BROWN DERBY N HIS BRITE GREEN TIE HE WAS QUIIITE THE HANDSOMEST OF MEN I STARTED 2 YEN SO I COUNTED 2 10 THEN I COUNTED 2 10 AGIIIN
CHUG CHUG went da mota
clang, clang, clangtipped his hat
took a seat
held my breath
scared me 1/2 2 deaf
stop stop STOP went my heartstrings
as he started to go
then I started to know
how it feels
when the universe
reels
couldn’t squeak
couldn’t speak
buZz buZz buZz went d@ buzza
started 2 leave
took hold af es sweeve
it was so grand
2 stand w/WWW his hand
holdin myen
zing zing zing went my heart.!`!~!~`~!~““`clang““~~~clang~~~^^clang&&&==]
