Bullying it stops when you grow up

This is probably the most personal blog I have ever written, so if you are looking for light and fluffy, or honey-badger don’t care, this ain’t it.

I am an expert in bullying. I went to Catholic school, and if you didn’t know this, well catholic school girls wrote the book on bullying. I wasn’t a “fat” kid, I was pretty normal. I had a layer of baby fat but other then that, normal kid. I spent most of my childhood believing I was ugly and obese. One of the only memories from school that I have (I believe I lack memories as self preservation) is one Halloween. Veronica Gonzales was passing out candies and she skipped my desk, I said “hey, you skipped me” and she said “yeah, it’s not like you need it”. This is just a mild taste of my everyday from fourth thru eighth grade. In fifth grade a nun told me I was too “heavy” to dance in the Christmas recital. I spent the next four years binge eating and starving. I am not sure I have ever gotten over the bullying from my youth.

When you are a kid you can’t wait to grow up. You think adults don’t judge each other the way children do; when you’re an adult, being cool doesn’t matter and you’re judged, not by the superficial parameters of children, but only by the quality of your work. Sadly this is not the case.

I was let go last week. Some would say that my deep rooted insecurities have gotten the better of me. I have heard the owner of the company I worked for discuss interviews of potential candidates, I have heard her say things like,” but she was so old” to “oh my god did you see what she wore to the interview” When I first interviewed I came home and told Gordon there was no way I was getting this job. All of the girls in the office looked the same, dressed the same, I did not look like them. I did not, in fact, get the job, she hired someone else. When that someone else didn’t work out I got the job then. This place was pretty booshy boshy, and I worked hard to fit in, hair and full on Vegas make up every day. I worked to my fullest potential had a great 60 day review and was fired shortly there after. I was given the reason that I was not a “team player”. People who aren’t team players don’t work 14 hour days, they don’t train new hires and they don’t bring breakfast for the office before morning meetings.

I was never put on the Facebook page. I was the only employee in our office who wasn’t on the Facebook page. They are actually in the process of taking new pictures of the entire staff and lets not forget the Christmas cards. Maybe my husband is right, maybe I am too sensitive. There are other reasons I believe my appearance played a role but I am too upset to talk about it right now.

Deep down I know I was fired because I do not project the “image” that the owner wants for that office, I don’t think I was hired with longevity in mind, but maybe just a seat warmer. We all know that thin hot girls lease more houses. But thank God we are adults now!

The softer side of Do

It’s funny what happiness can do for you, your teeth look whiter, hair’s a little bouncier. I’m happy. There I said it. Now what? I’m sure as hell not going to have anything to blog about, that’s for sure. The bad thing about being happy, don’t act like I wasn’t going to find it, is that you notice more when people around you aren’t. Since I’m not an overly caring person, I say “so what”. Everyone is entitled to be unhappy, that’s why I am down with gay marriage.

I have to find my groove, until then, enjoy my snippy snip-its!

Smooches

ORIGINAL ANGSTA

What in the name of baby Jesus is going on here? In a matter of a week my life has gotten messy, dirty feet type messy. Like hobbit feet with less fur. I have found myself in somewhat of a pickle. And I FUCKING HATE pickles. So what’s a girl to do, reevaluate and move on? I am struggling, I have spent the last 4 years of my life in jobs that lack investing. I just show up or do the work that is required and then cash the check. No room for growth, no skills required. I killed time. That expression sucks my planets ( shout out to my son)! “Killing Time”… but it’s of the essence…time is suppose to be on your side, yes it is. Well time, sorry about that whole killing thing, lets say I buy you a beer, and you make my life better, say with a job. I need to catch a break. I’m being all woe is me and shit, but listen, I’m 31 years old, my work history is crap and jobs are scarce. I use to be able to rely on my good looks and full bosom. Seriously, trying to bring that word back, tell your friends. Alas, my looks have faded~ my bosom still rocks, however, it is overshadowed by my ginormous ass. Perhaps a hiatus is in order, 6 months of hard-core training at the gym, maybe a beefed up resume. A sabbatical of sorts. Redefine myself. Maybe start going by my middle name Lorraine, you can call me Rainie for short. Identity crisis much? Can a mid-life crisis happen in ones thirties, I always though it was a forties thing. Maybe I’m advanced. Maybe I need to pull my emo head out of my ass.

And to all you, “it could be worse” people. Kick rocks. It’s my blog and I’ll be angsty if I want to.

Oh why are there no plus sized strip clubs?!

My Blog~My Resume

Resume writing is a tedious task. Whoever decided that we needed a detailed and formatted way to explain ourselves was a LAMETARD. (see I’m working on not using that other offensive word) So here is my new and improved version of the resume.

Doreen Marino
(909)436-****
Jugglies@yahoo.com

Objective: To make enough money to not constantly worry about past due bills and overdraft fees. To get up for work everyday and be excited, to like my co-workers and employers and not be bubbling over with hostility and rage.To feel motivated and challenged.

Life Experiences and skills: I can plan an entire funereal including the reception in one day. I had four immediate family members die in one year, I have honed in on my party planning/funeral arrangement skills. I have also hosted and planned multiple events from birthdays to weddings and everything in between. Multi-tasking also comes easily to me as I have 3 kids and one husband. I can bake a cake, read a book, and play the wii all at the same time. Time management is my bitch, I am never late to work. I juggle art class, physical therapy, errands and nooners with ease. My disposition is generally happy and friendly. However I have been known to go on a bender. I’m extremely creative, such as: my high school boyfriend was a manslut (not to be confused with manwhore, whores get paid) so instead of just breaking up with him, i found the teeny tiniest gay pride bumper sticker and stuck it right above his license plate on his truck. It just so happened that this homophobic dilhole went to an all boys school. I am pretty sure that he drove around for at least a week until he noticed. CREATIVE. I’m an avid self starter, it helps motivate, or at least my husband likes it And for the most part you don’t have to worry about sexual harassment, unless you don’t like it. I’m honest, I’m loyal, and given a chance I will succeed.

Skills: I can blow spit bubbles off of my tongue. Drink a beer from my breasts. Quote Space Balls, and other movies. Type 65wpm, have ample knowledge of most operating systems and I can network. People tend to like me.

Education: I’m smart, but not educated. I tried college but it was just like high school with ashtrays, and well I smoke. Very distracting indeed. I love to read. I can bullshit given the required amount of time to google and find out a few facts. As far as math goes, fuck math. That is why we have calculators.

Summary: I’m awesome, HIRE ME.

Hateful

To (person that you hate)

I hate you. You make me hate your parents for having you, and their parents for having them.

My hate is pure. My hate is absolute. My hate is effervescent. I’m unable to explain why it fits this last adjective, but it does. I cannot deny how truly bubbly and nose-tingling my hate for you is. It is a well-shaken coke bottle of hate which lives deep within me. I hate you more than mayonnaise soaked pickles. You are an abomination in my life.

If my hate had weight, it could be mistaken for Kristie Ally on the cover of star magazine. If my hate had sex, it would sleep with you on the first date, and your friend on the second. A true nymphomaniac dancing with the stars; that’s my hate.

I hope by now it’s become obvious how enormous and unwieldy my hate for you is. In fact, it’s of such vast size as to be practically immeasurable. Or in other words, it is of measurable dimensions, but so big, so huge that the time and effort required to measure it far exceeds the limits of my life, maybe even my children’s lives.

In conclusion, this will probably be my only hate letter to you. I may write again, but fortunately my hate is very short-lived. It’s probably all the weight.

Suck IT
[YOUR NAME HERE]

Sell OUT

MTV. Those three letters invoke hostility. MTV, once a ground breaking, cutting edge station is now teenage fodder and reality crap. I remember sneaking out of bed to watch Cher’s “Turn Back Time” video, wondering what the big deal was, it was after all only her butt. My brother and I would come home from school and watch “Remote Control” and imagine how rad it would be to have one of those recliners. Who could forget the classic, “YO MTV RAPS”? I even tried sporting Kennedy’s glasses one summer. (It wasn’t a good look for me) Who can we blame for Mtv’s fall from grace? I blame a sixteen year old pregnant girl from New Jersey who acts like a jackass everyday in the real world.
Reality Tv killed the music video star. I guess we could start out with Tom Green, but I’m not going to, because despite the brain cells that died in the first 20 minutes of “Freddy got Fingered” I like the guy. I’m going to start with “16 and Pregnant”. Glorifying teenage pregnancy really gets my panties in a bunch. These girls can barely drive, and don’t get me started on the sperm donor bags of douche. Devils advocate: teenage pregnancies have dropped 14% since this show has been on the air. Do we thank MTV or planned parenthood, parents, teachers and doctors? Of course we thank MTV, i cant go to the grocery store without seeing one of those 16-year-old tartlets on the cover of a magazine. WTF? did the Kardashian’s retire? I find this show deplorable, that they get paid $65,000 a season doesn’t help. I know some will argue that its going to educate and that’s fine. However, I still think its classless voyeuristic television. Anyone remember the calamity, Paris Hilton’s New Best Friend? How about My Super Sweet 16?

MTV, has killed itself with shitty programming for years trying to be appealing to the 12-24 demographic. In my opinion (which, if you weren’t sure, is an AWESOME ONE) MTV, needs to remember why we loved the station in the beginning. It was about music. I don’t even mind show’s like Cribs and Pimp My Ride, if need be I would even take that atrocity TRL back. I just want to watch the video’s hear the music and know that MUSIC TELEVISION actually has MUSIC playing.

EX~it to the left.

I had a conversation in the bar a few weeks ago, that made me think about ex’s. Not mine, Go’s. My ex’s for the most part, weren’t terribly crazy. In fact, I can think of only one. They all had their little idiosyncrasies , but all in all nice guys. Gordon’s ex’s are a little more complex.

I’m going to start out with Jen, because she’s my favorite. I can look at Jen and instantly see why Gordon would love her. I can see how he could love a woman like her and a woman like me. There aren’t a lot of physical similarities, but we both like to have fun, we are both confident, and on a good day, we are both rational and level-headed. I love when people ask how I met Jen, I always say “She slept with my husband”, to which she replies,”he wasnt her husband then”. If I were ever to die in a fiery car crash or get eaten by a shark, I would want Jen to take care of my husband, and a nanny to take care of my kids. That’s not a dig, it’s just a fact, we have 3 of them. Meeting Jen while weird by societies standards, has had an awesome effect on my life. I adore her, and she is one of my closest friends.

For the sake of a libel law suit I shall refer to Gordon’s ex-girlfriend by the code name India. India, is by far the only person in this world I would pay to punch. Like really, here’s a hundy and bam to the already twisted face. Seriously this girl looks like Elisa Thornberry. Sorry, that was a bit sophomoric. No need to resort to that kind of blogging. Anyway, it’s a good thing that Gordon is some kind of sex camel in that he can go long periods without it, because in the 3 years they were together he got NONE. When given that little nugget, I of course had to ask, “not even a beej” or “HJ”???? Nothing. India had bigger issues then her sacred virginity. Girl was a PSYCHO. Not boil the bunny kind, that’s fine, fuck bunnies, get a new bunny. Nope she went farther than that and told pretty much anyone they had contact with that he beat her up. Beat her, all the time. I find this deplorable on so many levels. One, because its disrespectful to the hoards of woman who have been beaten, they know the hurt and pain and suffering that goes along with an abusive relationship, and here she is making one up because of wounded pride, or just plain crazy. Also, if you look up you will see a picture of Gordon, all 150 lbs of him. The guy is not a fighter, he might get mouthy but there is no way, no possible way, that he beat this woman into a coma, per her claim. Bitches be crazy. Jen and I met her for coffee one day, just to see how the crazy transcribes to reality. I still remember the words Jen said to me as we got in the car after our coffee,” some people aren’t comfortable with their crazy”. And I truly believe she wasn’t.

Oh and just to make sure you know how awful she is, when I got pregnant with Brody I had posted that I had only gained 10 lbs- she wrote me an email saying that it was a good thing I didn’t gain more, because where would I be able to put it. LOL Haters gonna hate.

The B*tch Back

Reader Advisory: The following blog contains extensive and explicit bitching. Some readers may be bored or offended by the following content. If you are a devout Christian please vacate the blog. If you are prone to heart failure or have weak bowls I ask that you also forgo reading and go watch the BBC instead.

As many of you know I work at a bar. I WORK AT A BAR. Not quite sure how it all transpired but the previous statement is true. Funny thing about working at a bar, bits of your humanity slip away. Piece by piece, one day your moral compass points North and the next day it’s North East. I’ve come to the conclusion that without an outlet for my frustrations, the daily grind of my job gets the best of my seemingly charming nature. In point I become a raging B*tch. Doesn’t that asterisk add something? I love it, if I had an I in my first name I would legally change it to have that in it’s place. Moving on.

I have accumulated a list of rules and regulations that I think should be abided by. Simple things, easy tasks. And here they are reader, for your pleasure.

#1- if you can’t afford to tip, you can’t afford to drink. I’m not saying you have to tip every single beer or drink, however, a six-pack should be rewarded with a few bucks. If I dump your ash tray, if I smile and chit-chat, if I listen to your incessant ramblings about how you lost your job or why your marriage didn’t work: I deserve a gratuity. I make minimum wage. I clean up, piss, vomit and things I won’t tell you about because it’s to nasty to write. If I remember your name and what you drink, show me the courtesy of tipping. I fucking deserve it, you piece of crap degenerate.

#2- if you are married, engaged, or have a girlfriend, and we KNOW her, don’t disrespect her or us by getting all inappropriate on our asses. We get paid to like you. PAID. The fact is we really don’t. You are sceevy and gross and if we met you at a club we would laugh and make fun of you for the next ten years. Do not be that guy. Flirting is fun and in the right context harmless, don’t be pervy.

#3- Ladies, I do not won’t to see your thong. Cisco ain’t at the bar bitches! No one wants to see you bend over for a dart and get a face full of butt floss. This is not a night club it’s a shitty little bar in Covina. I would also like to add that if your shirt at any time comes off I will take your drink from you. Chances are you are going to regret flashing a room full of drinking men. Chances are these bastards won’t ever forget. Why must you be that stereo type. Have some god damn respect for yourself. And bend at your knees next time.

#4- priority seating does not fucking exist here. If you get up from your spot and your shit isn’t there, ie a purse, a phone, a beer. It is no longer your spot. No holdsies assholes. If someone sits downs and buys a beer you are SOL. get over it and sit somewhere else. I swear to Buddha the next mo fo who tries to pull this “it’s my spot” shit with me is going to get 86′d just for the hell of it.

#5- pooping. Yes after all my foul language I’m still going to call it pooping. POOPING. There is one stall in the men’s room, unless it is an EMERGENCY, you should not do that here. Jack in the Box is around the corner, go home or find another bathroom. It’s weird, it’s nasty. No one wants to walk in to a guy on the shitter. Well maybe republican senators….

#6- shit ain’t free. Don’t beg for beers, don’t sit at the bar all damn day and buy nothing. This is not a club house, it’s not your couch. Do not come here to watch tv. Buy something or get out. Loitering laws should be in full effect. Shiftless layabouts.

#7- tap water. I don’t serve tap water. Okay I guess by law I have to give people water if they ask for it, however ice is clearly at my discretion. It’s my ice and I get to say who deserves it. If you are dick- no ice.

#8- Wives. I cannot handle my own husband do not expect me to handle yours. Do not call the bar, that’s why they have cell phones. If they aren’t answering those may I suggest to you a little thing called locksmiths. Change the locks once and they seem to get the hint. Nothing infuriates me more then

Wife: hey is a guy named mark there?
Me: dude your wife is on the phone
Mark: I’m not here.
Me to wife: he’s not here.
Wife: really, cause I’m looking at his car.

Really?!? Now I’m the lying bartender and you’re the psycho wife. Neither one of us looks good and I think we should avoid these scenarios in the future.

Listen the list goes on and on, and at the end of the day I just want what everyone wants. RESPECT , sing it I know you want to. It’s not the easiest job, sure I know it looks fun, hanging out talking,shooting the shit, but at the end of the night, when you count out and you find out you made $25 in tips, had two spilled beers, have to mop up pee and pick gum out of ash trays… It’s not to glamourous. And to that fucker who puked in the urinal I’ll find you… Oh I’ll find you

Can’t spell SMOTHER with out MOTHER

Things I have learned since becoming a mother

- don’t listen to other people, chances are their kids suck.
- When an item like a bead is shoved in the nose, cover the childs mouth with your mouth and blow like a mo fo, the bead will shoot straight out the nostril.
-I no longer have to get my own toilet paper off the roll a good amount of the time. I have it gifted to me in segments of 15, 2, 3, and .23.
-I will be able to show my sons star wars in the order that I want to. ( there was a marathon on Spike last night)
-dinner sometimes is not about how much one eats, but about how far it can be thrown.
-peals of laughter can bring tears of joy.
-sleeping in is worth more money than I can put a sticker on.-there is little better in the whole of the world than your first real hug and kiss from your child.
- homework sucked when I was a kid, and it still sucks as a parent. I can’t do 5th grade math.
- I’m pretty sure that the first one is practice for the next one
- teaching my daughter to sing the lyrics to “get low” was cute at first but now it is just annoying. APPLE BOTTOM JEANS BOOTS WITH THE FURRRRR

Happy Smothers Day, go bug your mom.

Excuse me, your thetans are showing….

I am obsessed with the Church of Scientology. There is a new branch in my city. Yes, I know they’re a cult. I know of their extortion practices, the abuse of its lower-rung members, Lisa McPherson, Operation Snow White and so forth. But it’s their doctrine, clumsily-reasoned pseudoscience and their irrational “war on psychiatry” that catches my attention. I personally love psychiatry; any practice that hands out pills like candy is all right in my book, sorry that must be my thetans talking.

There’s plenty of information on the internet on Scientology; the internet being a boon and bane to the sect, as it theoretically lets them get the word of their religion out much faster, but at the same time it lets others get the word out on the sect in an equal fashion. So while you can find plenty of pro-Scientology info out there, odds are you’ll be just as likely, if not more so, to come across their secret documents, such as the infamous OT III documents describing how the galactic overlord Xenu caused all the ills of this planet. Wikipedia also has massive sections documenting nearly every aspect of the cult from their invented language ( I seriously want to learn this) to organization to their very blatant crimes in the 80′s.

I love watching the movies of people peacefully protesting while getting bear baited by Scientologists asking “what are YOUR crimes” over and over again, as I think they believe that repeating a question over and over again will get someone to suddenly admit that they killed a hobo in ’82 with a tire iron. Sadly, I am not watching CSI or Law and Order.

In light of all this, I encourage everyone to go forth and learn what they can on the subject. Education is power, and for the most part this is highly entertaining shit.

I do believe that everyone has the right to worship whatever they please however they please. If a group of people want to worship the nonsensical ravings of a mediocre science fiction writer with a galvanic skin response meter and some soup cans, by all means. Go for it. Whatever. But the cult’s long-standing tradition of destroying families, financial ruin, personal abuse is a criminal action. I wonder what the cult has on some government officials to retain their tax-exempt status?