What We Have Here is a Failure to Communicate

Current song stuck in my head: Fake Wings from .hack//Sign

Today was busy. And frustrating. But mostly frustrating. Here's why.

For the first two hours, I ran from register to register, taking over for other cashiers when they took their breaks. No big deal, at least not until this afternoon. At one o'clock, I was sent to register 5.

*Insert groan here*

Register 5 is the busiest register in the store. It's the first full-service check-out past the self-checks. Since so many people hate the self-checks, they walk straight to five. So I had a line all day long. Making matter worse? I didn't have functional equipment. My PIN pad wasn't working; it wouldn't read any credit or debit cards. So the customers would run their cards multiple times, get frustrated and I'd have to slide the card through the magnetic reader on my side of the register. A transaction that should have been completed in under a minute took at least three and a half minutes. It doesn't sound like a long time but to a waiting customer it's an eternity. It felt even longer to me.

Yeah, I was frustrated, to put it mildly. But it gets even better.

The CSMs know that our PIN pad is faulty on register 5. Our store manager does not. Why? The CSMs haven't told him.

There is a total lack of communication in my store and it is now affecting my job. Register 5 needs to be fixed immediately but our manager doesn't have a clue about it. No one's told him. I'm also willing to bet that he doesn't know about the other malfunctioning registers in the store, like number 16 which doesn't have a working stylus. I'm frustrated, the customers get angry and nothing is being done about it.

And unfortunately, unlike so many others who work in my store, I actually give a damn. I want things to get better, or at least be somewhat bearable in the building. I'm sick of it, sick of the utter lack of communication, sick of the faulty PIN pads, sick of management being so clueless about how bad things really are there. I come home from work so irritated that I have to spend an hour upstairs with the cat on my lap to calm myself down. It shouldn't be this way, but until a few other employees actually start caring, things won't change.

And that honestly depresses the hell out of me. But it doesn't surprise me in the least.

--Weasel, "I'm tired, frustrated and trying not to slam my head into a wall. Wish me luck."

Slow Burn

(Click title for an appropriately loud and angry bit of music!)

So my good mood from my trip to BotCon lasted about a week. Then the bullshit started. Only this time....

I'm not allowed on self-checks. I have no idea as to why, but our stupid ass ZM (I'll call her Bitchimus Maximus) has said this and her retarded-assed words are apparently fucking law. (I have an idea as to why and it's a BS reason and it deals with the dipshit store credit cards we're supposed to pimp, but I digress....)

So yeah, the self-checks will be left in the hands of cashiers who don't give a fucking shit and I'll be forced to watch them fall the fuck apart. The self-checks are one of the few things in that goddamn building that I actually give a damn about.

....pissed don't even start to cover this horseshit.

But this will bite the dumb little bitch squarely on her ass. I know for a damned fact that I will be stuck on a register next to the self-checks and when some customer needs help and asks me, I'll tell them no. If Bitchimus Maximus wants me to help anyone on the damned self-checks, she can stop playing dumbass head games, act like a respectable human being for once in her pathetic life and lift the restriction. Until then, it's not my goddamn problem. Fuck her and the ass she rode in on, as far as I'm concerned. I'm. DONE.

I've told Prime he's going to start editing my magnum opus in August. Doesn't matter whether or not I'm ready, I'm done screwing the hell around. I want out and I want it now. Everyone says I should be happy to have a job, but I sure as hell am not happy dealing with the fucking abuse that management is so happy to heap upon us. We're expendable and they know it. The abuse ain't worth the paycheck.

Primus give me strength for I truly need it.

Everything you say to me
(Takes me one step closer to the edge)
(And I'm about to break)
I need a little room to breathe
(Cause I'm one step closer to the edge)
(I'm about to break)

Sick of It All

I'm... tired. Tired of the bullshit, the backstabbing and all the crap that comes with my damn job. I'll fill you in later. Right now, I'm too fucking pissed.

(Insert Scream Here)

(Current earworm: Iridescent by Linkin Park. Love this song; it is going to be in Dark of the Moon, after all.)

The last few days have not been good, to say the very least.

Thursday, I came down with what I suspect was food poisoning: I was fine until I ate lunch but an hour or so later I began to feel like hammered slag.

Didn't work on Friday and it wasn't by choice. I had to call in. There was no way I could sit upright for more than a few seconds, so you could forget about me standing. It was a good thing I did. I spent most of the day sleeping and ridding my body of whatever toxin had invaded. It was painful as hell and I hope I never have to deal with that sort of bullshit ever again.

The only thing I could keep down was Jell-O (which I can't friggin' stand) and Poweraide. Solid food? The very thought of the stuff made me want to gag.

I am just now feeling really normal. For the last few days I've still felt a bit off, dealing with cramps and feeling like someone slammed me straight in the gut with Mjöllnir. Yeah, not pleasant don't even begin to cover this. I haven't even been doing my usual Golett rescues on GTS. Didn't EV train at all, either. I just felt too bad to even mess around with my DS.

But wait! It gets better!

Yesterday, I was doing a bit of editing, listen to some music, and perusing the web as always when Alexa-1, my darling laptop started to behave strangely. Everything seemed fine, then at around 4:50, she powered herself down. I thought at first I had inadvertently yanked a cord or something, but everything was still connected.

I shook my head, hit the power button and Alexa seemed to power up, then she shut down again. Now I was getting worried. So I tried switching her on again. She made it to the "Start Windows" screen and shut down again.

Now, I was completely panicked. Something was wrong and I had no clue as to what. I did the one thing I always do when shit happens and I'm clueless as to what may have occurred.

I called Prime.

I was all but screaming in hysteria when I told him what had happened, that something was wrong with Lexi and I couldn't get her to power back up. He told me he would be home soon and he'd take a look at her.

He fixed her. Seems she got a bit overheated, so she shut herself down. She's fine now, or else you wouldn't be reading this.

Yeah, it's been an interesting few days. I could use a few that are nothing like this, I tell you. If I go through this sort of crap again, I may end up bald before BotCon.

--Weasel, "And I thought my damn job was the biggest source of stupid on the planet. Silly me."

Dear Victoria Jackson,

Please, shut the fuck up.

I am serious, SHUT THE FUCK UP. You sicken me. Go drink from the fire hose or go look at Mr. Frying Pan.

Dammit, this casts a horrible pall on UHF, which is one of my favorite movies. Now whenever I see it, I'm going to start shouting at Weird Al, "You're better off without that stupid twit!"

And people wonder why I'm praying for the Robot Apocalypse.

--Weasel, "I don't think that the robots will be as fucked up in the head as humans are..."

Black Friday

So, I'm in at nine o'clock the day after Thanksgiving. I'll be in after the bullshit has been said and done.

I'm actually kinda glad; one of my friends has to be in at his store at midnight, IIRC. Yeah, that would piss me the hell off, too.

I wonder how many people will end up getting punched in the ribs or kicked in the face trying to grab whatever cheap-ass TV or hot new toy that's on the sales floor this year.

Really people, is this shit worth getting injured over? Yeah, didn't think so.

--Weasel, who wouldn't step foot out of her house if she didn't have to go to work that day.

"Friend" This

So apparently, saying anything bad about my company on-line will get an associate in hot water. Okay, no big deal right?

Wrong.

It appears if you have Facebook, management will try and fucking friend you... just to watch what the fuck you're saying about the damned company. If it's anything bad, they haul your ass into the office and bitch you out.

I'm really glad I don't have Facebook. I'll be damned if I'd friend any of the management in my damned store so if any managers see this, GTFO. My time on the 'net is my own assholes and I sure as hell won't spend it with you.

--Weasel, "Primus, please let my sorry skidplate get published. I want out of this hellhole."

I Can Make It Until June, Right? Right?!

The last few days have progressively gotten worse at my hellhole workplace. On Wednesday, my store completely ran out of medium bags. So our bagging areas were full of large bags.

This was a disaster. They kept falling off the bagging area and couldn't stand up while we were placing items in them. Our speed dropped, the customers were pissed but management swore we were stuck with the damned things through the weekend. Someone screwed up our bag order and we were shipped a pallet of the wrong thing but we had to use them anyway.

There were customers cursing out cashiers over this. We also had customers howling at management over it but management did nothing.

At least, they didn't do anything until the store manager came back from his vacation. He got pissed and took care of everything.

Then two days ago, one of my co-workers got fired. She wouldn't give a reason, she just said it was a dumbass reason to get fired. But now we're short a cashier and we have the EAA Fly-In starting up this week. It is going to be hell.

Then there was today. One of the guys who works service desk volunteered to take a shift yesterday. Unfortunately, he couldn't make it; some punk ass broke out all his car windows. So when he tells management that he can't make it (for obvious reasons), he's told that it will count against him.

Needless to say, he won't be doing them anymore favors. He pretty much said he'll let them hang if they're ever in a bind. I can't blame him. He said it himself: we bend over fucking backwards for that place and all they do is screw us.

Primus, help me make it to next June. But as of right now, I don't know if I can pull it off.

Coping

The first full week back to work is a killer. I have no real desire to be there and the memories of the recent convention just makes it harder for me to adjust. But once I'm through that first week of drudgery, I'm all right. Well, as all right as one can expect. But there have been changes, not all of them good.

The biggest? One of our good head cashiers has stepped down, thanks to management. They tried like hell to get him fired and he got sick of it, so he's stepped down and now he's at service desk.

I could cry. Seriously. He was the only head who was friendly and reasonable. Now management has pissed him off and we've fucking lost him. We're stuck with a bunch of fucking dumbasses who don't know what the flying fuck they're doing and who act rudely towards us simply because they can.

What a helluva way to start work after having the time of my life.

--Weasel, wishing it were June and she was in Cali...

I Quit Humanity.

This is why.

Yep, BP don't want y'all to see what's going on down there. But, don't worry; it ain't so bad. (Better have a strong stomach if you click that link. It'll make you sick. Trust me)

Somebody get me the hell off this damned planet. I'm done. I have no faith in the freaking lifeforms that are running the place. I swear to Primus, nothing can fuck things up like a human.

--Weasel, "Somebody get me off Planet Dirt. Now."

Akirameru*

Yes, it's been a while. No, work hasn't gotten a slagging bit better. In fact, it's gotten a slagload worse.

In the past couple of weeks, we've had a shitload of people get canned. Most of them were cashiers. One that I heard about yesterday worked at the service desk and I have no damned idea why in the hell she'd get termed. That same damned head who loves riding my ass has been riding it still, but not quite as much. But a lot of other people at the front end are having problems with her. I finally found out why: she wants to move up in the company, so she's acting like a total bitch to impress management. I have no idea if Bitch Convoy (that's what I'm calling her from now on) has attracted the attention of the higher ups; I'm praying to Primus that she hasn't. But the real kicker came about a week and a half ago.

One of the good head cashiers got reamed out by management. He was told he needed to make better decisions and be more responsible. This shit was said to him after he stopped a jackass customer from ripping off the goddamn store. Awesome job, idiots. You think he's going to try and bust his ass to help that miserable hellhole now? Of course the fuck not. Primus, I'd love to slam my head into a fucking wall right about now.

Oh, and I'm getting two days off... but not in a row. To say I'm exhausted would be putting it gently.

Oh well. In 12 more days, I'll be on a jet heading to sunny Florida and BotCon. I can hardly wait until I get there. I can see (and hug the living hell out of) my friends again. (Consider that your warning, DA!)

--Weasel, "At least life won't suck while I'm there."

* means: to give up; to abandon; to resign oneself to.

Pain Redefined

(Click the title bar if you don't get the song ref.)
The last few days have not been great.

Well, last Friday didn't suck, Prime and I headed to the local movie theatre and caught Iron Man 2. It was awesome. Shit blew up. Tony Stark is the freaking man. And I think I'm slightly crushing on Nick Fury, Agent of SHIELD. I want to see it again. But life went straight to hell not long after that.

On Saturday that blasted problem with my left foot, that stupid damned tendon started acting up again. I was limping through most of my day at work. A couple of times while I was standing at the front lanes I wanted to simply start crying, the pain was getting that bad. (And here I thought I was getting better! Shows what the hell I know...) So I had to start sucking down the ibuprofen again to keep the pain at bay. Then came Sunday.

Sunday was just as bad if not worse. The pain came back with a vengeance. I was hobbling around again. Even worse, one of the heads had a stick up her ass and proceeded to ride every one's ass about it. (The reason? She got busted for not doing her damn job, so she took it out on all of us.) I won't name names (though you have no idea how damned tempted I am) but suffice to say she was being a royal bitch to damn near everyone. In my case, it's pretty much standard operating procedure; for whatever reason this chick does not like me at all. She's constantly on my ass about stupid bullshit.

But I noticed something that day: the pain in my foot got worse every time she was around me. It was the exact same story on Monday. The moment she opened her mouth to bitch me out, the tendon in my left foot started acting up.

When she left for the day, or I had a few minutes to write, there was no pain. None.

As of right now, I'm in no pain. My tendon is fine for the moment. And I'm about to hit 80,000 words on my magnum opus. But I have to head back to work tomorrow. I'm looking forward to that about as much as I'd look forward to a root canal.

I really hope I can sell a couple of books. I'd love to give those turds my two weeks notice. Or better yet, not show the hell up for a week. Nothing would make me happier.

--Weasel, "A girl can dream..."

Are You Fucking Shitting Me?!

Really, Shakesville? This is what gets your fucking knickers in a twist? You're serious about this?

Grip: Get one. Seriously. And the "concern trolls" are absolutely right. But you won't read any of their words on the blog page; you have to hit DISQUS to read everything. Gotta love censorship.

janestclair84 · 1 day ago
Oh, for Chrissake.

The man was making a hokey joke about his pre-teen daughters squeeing over a band of pop stars, coincidentally a band that creates an uncomfortable dichotomy between their squeaky clean promise ring image and the none-too-subtle sexualization of their act and persona (foam cannons, really?) If anything, it's you are insisting on essentializing them as pawns of sexual politics, rather than the human father and daughters they in fact are.

I read here occasionally for a "wow, I never thought of that" sense of awareness about race and gender in society, but really- not everything is a battlefront on which your oh so enlightened worldview is assaulted. Get off the high horse, and get a grip on your ego and sense of self-righteousness.

Lot of truth in that statement. So much so that Liss couldn't handle it.

That's it. I'm done. I'm turning in my feminist card. I refuse to get tied up with that sort of bullshit anymore. I've got better ways to waste my time.

--Weasel, "I'm leaning more towards being a humanist anyways..."

Are You Shitting Me?!

I did not just read this: Obama plan expands offshore oil drilling.

Awesome. Just fucking awesome. I've been down this road before--twenty years ago when I was living in NC. I fought like hell to make sure this bullshit wouldn't happen. We were able to dodge the bullet for a while but not anymore, it would seem.

They'll be drilling in Virginia. How long will it be before the Outer Banks are ruined? What are the chances Wrightsville Beach will end up spoiled? We all know spills have a tendency to spread out; like it or not this will affect NC. To hell with Michael Bay, this rapes my childhoods. I could absolutely cry.

Stop the world, I wanna get the fuck off. NOW.

Primus, am I ever glad I voted third party.


EDIT @ 1:08PM: CNN just showed us a nice big fat map of areas approved for offshore drilling. Guess who's on there? If you said the coast of North Carolina, you'd be right. (I just screamed at the television in abject rage when I saw that.) Godmotherfuckingdammit. Now I am going to go cry.

I'm Doomed! OMG!!111eleventymillion11!!

At least according to this article.

For those of you who don't want to click over to the fail, here's a rundown of some of the "gems" on the list:
Don't be smarter than your mate.
Don't have an "immature" hobby. (Action figures? Comic books? Video games? Oh no!)
Don't take a dump in front of each other. (Gotta maintain the "mystery", whatever the hell that means.)
Don't take separate vacays.
Don't have kids.
Don't have a big bed. (You totally need a cramped little twin sized bed so you can like cuddle and make out and stuff!)
Don't have a TV in the bedroom.
Don't change your appearance. At all. Ever.

Prime and I collect Transformers. Our hobby is the reason why we met. We had a big TV in our bedroom at one point... and used it to play video games. I dyed my hair red a few years ago. We sleep in a huge-ass king sized bed. And we just got married this year, after being together for damn near a decade. Yeah, we're seriously doomed. /sarcasm

--Weasel, "This just in, CNN fails. Film at whenthefuckever."

The Worst Christmas Ever

Once upon a time, back in the 1990s I dated a jackass. I do not kid about this fact.

It was around Christmas time, many years ago when said jackass wanted to know what I'd like. I told him--G2 Dreadwing. This was the only item I wanted for Christmas that year: I didn't want jewelry, I didn't want clothes, I just wanted that Transformer.

The days passed. I bought my gifts for my jackass boyfiend and my other friends. Then one day, the jackass tells me that he's done his shopping and he got an extra special, completely awesome gift for me. He swears I'll love it.

My heart jumps. Oh God, I think. He got me Dreadwing! I can barely wait until I get my gift.

When we have our party, I'm practically dancing with delight. I can barely wait to rip the wrapping paper off my brand new TF.

We go through the usual stuff, we trade gifts, rip them open, thank each other. I'm impatiently waiting to get my "special" gift; the jackass has been swearing for days that I will absolutely adore it.

Then the moment comes. My jackass boyfiend and one of my other friends comes out, dragging a large box. They then launch into a song: "The 12 Days of Yaksmas".

A Ren and Stimpy song.

Did I mention that I hated Ren and Stimpy? And that my jackass bf loved to exploit that?

The special gift was little more than a damned joke. I was pissed.

I spent the rest of the party outside, so pissed I couldn't see straight. It was not a good night.

Thankfully, the jackass wised up a little and realized that he had hurt my feelings. So to smooth things over, he bought Dreadwing for me that night. At least that didn't suck.

As for the crap in the giant box--most of it got pitched. The only thing I kept were the socks.

They lasted longer than my ex. They also were a lot more useful.

Insert Scream

As if dealing with cranky customers isn't bad enough...

The past few days have been pretty slagging busy and filled with enough bullshit to choke an elephant. But nothing can compare to what happened on Sunday.

Sunday I was on the grocery self checks, talking to the cashier on register 4. It seems our wonderful heads have a new trick up their sleeve. They're talking to cashiers, at least six a day, and telling them how they can improve their customer service skills. Among one of the points? You guessed it! Smile more!

Not only are they fucking spying on us, they're busting us for a bullshit reason. This is seriously getting out of hand.

Tell me again why I tolerate this shit? Oh yeah, I don't want to live in a cardboard box by the fucking river. But that's the only goddamn reason.

--Weasel, "Let's skip this horseshit and go straight to BotCon. Now."

It's All Downhill From Here

It's only October and I'm about to burn out. We haven't even hit the "real" Ca$hma$ shopping season and I'm about ready to rip my hair out.

Work is going straight to hell. And there is nothing I can do to stop it.

For the past several days I haven't been anywhere near the self checks; all but one of the heads have been going out of their way to make damn sure I don't get sent to either one. Instead, they're sending people who hate being on self checks over there and it's pissing everyone off. I've had other cashiers asking me why I'm not over there: I just say that I haven't a clue.

We're short a head and a cashier, so the front end is in a total disarray, there are fucking spies who are reporting people to management on bullshit charges, the latest schedules are total messes, it's a fucking nightmare.

And there is nothing that can be done about it. The company knows that the job market is extremely tight right now, so they can abuse us and we won't do or say anything.

I don't know how much longer I can deal with this. I'm close to the breaking point as it is.

--Weasel, trying to make it to BotCon....

Happy Sucktober

(Got some suitably depressing music playing in the background; I can't tell if it's making my mood better or worse.)

So it begins in earnest. I can't say I'm too surprised. It is October, after all.

Head cashier Chris is in fact gone; the front end is falling apart. The new heads are completely useless and my new schedule....

In two weeks I'm pulling a 12:30 to 9. I haven't had one of those since I left the old hellhole. To say I was pissed off beyond words is putting it in the mildest terms possible. I'm glad that it's a Saturday shift, but it's still irritating as hell. But for once, I actually got off my ass and did something about it. I grabbed an availability form and changed my hours; I'm now open from 8AM to 8PM. It's a reduction of an hour, but it should prevent another noon to nine shift from ever happening.

In even worse news, I went to my local Blockbuster to ask if I could possibly have the ROTF DVD poster they have in the window once they're done with it. I was told no. By a manager. Normally, I'd be slightly pissed but I'd let it go. Not this time.

It's a Bumblebee poster. So yes, I'd give him a great home, but I can't thanks to that bitchy woman manager. He's basically going to sit out there and get weathered, then get tossed into a fucking Dumpster. And there's not a goddamn thing I can do about that. I feel as if I've been kicked in the fucking throat. And I get that same feeling every damned morning and evening when Prime and I drive past him. Prime, as usual, tried to calm me down when I told him what I got for an answer--really, I should have realized myself that the answer was to 'go hit all the other stores in the area'...they're not necessarily all run by the same manager. If it's become a chainwide policy since we acquired the HUGE four-panel DVD poster from that same store after the first movie's DVD release, I guess I'll be reduced to watching eBay now and again. There's always SOMEone who manages to grab the ungrabbable, after all...

I hate October. I really do.

When I lived in NC, one of my friends complained about November and just how much it sucked. He did have a point--he got suspended from high school almost every November. But for me, it's October. And it's been that way for damn near 12 years. This was the month that my friends and I would plan our trips to Raleigh, where we'd spend a weekend hitting places like Foundation's Edge, Buy Rite Video Games (long since out of business) and the Raleigh Flea Market Mall. It was a chance for us to spend a few hours in a hotel room, watch anime, eat pizza and act like total idiots.

They were also some of the best times of my young life.
And they'll never happen again.

October was the month my then boyfriend (Or should I say boyfiend?) decided that the "grass was greener", so to speak. Ever since then, October has sucked out loud. Nothing good has ever happened to me during this damned month. It's always been nothing but bad luck. The changing leaves and cooler nights do nothing but remind me that this bullshit is coming.

I'll be the first to admit I've never been big on fall. I prefer summer. But October... Ugh. I'd love nothing more than to skip it.

Can we please just fast forward to next year and BotCon? Please? I don't think I can deal with this shit anymore.

--Weasel, "I got tired of it twelve years ago."

It Needed to be Said...

I got inspired by this thread, which I read some time ago. Rather than reply to that particular blog, I'll say my piece here. For me, this blog truly is my safe zone.

And trust me, these are things that I have needed to say. It's been a long time coming.

To (1):
Why? Why in the hell did you do it? It's been nearly 12 years and I still don't understand why in the hell you thought it was a good idea to sleep with her. I told you and told you and told you it was a bad idea, but you refused to listen. And rather than growing a pair, I didn't forbid you from seeing her. No, instead I told you to be careful. Why? Because I didn't want to be the controlling, bitchy girlfriend.

Yeah, we see where that got me.

You were one lucky bastard, when you think about it. She was a liar, manipulator and a thief: if she had been any younger you could have been picked up for statutory. You are damned lucky that she did not try and press charges against you. You know good and damned well that she tried to get one of her former "boyfriends" pitched in jail for a made-up assault and she tried like hell to defraud an insurance company.

She was crazy. She was trouble. And she fucking used you. You probably know that now. But you had to take it out on me. It was somehow my fault. Like I held a gun to your head and forced you to sleep with her. You have no one to blame but yourself.

The problem is you know this. You can't escape that fact. You're in a hell of your own creation and the only way to dull the pain is to try and bury it.

The more I think about it, the more I pity you. You truly are a sad human being.

To (2):
I was never the bitch you made me out to be. Never. You honestly believed that I was a controlling, domineering bitch but it was never true. You took his side; you never cared about all the bullshit I had gone through.

I'm still pretty pissed at you. I'll never forget one of the emails you sent me--the one that said I had "met someone and moved on". That couldn't be further from the truth. (1) cheated on me. I spent more nights than I can count crying over him. He put me through a year of complete and utter hell. But I tried my damnedest to stay by him, to try and forgive him. Yet somehow, in your mind, it's all my fault. It never mattered that (1) screwed me over, it was still all my fault.

As if that wasn't bad enough, you want to know what in the hell I did to him?! Oh, it's just so sad--he barely talks to anyone while he's online and it's all totally my fault!

Bullshit.

If you had any idea of what he put me through, you'd never want to hear his "side" of things. He repeatedly threatened suicide to keep me in order, he verbally tore apart the only friend who was standing by my side, he was claiming that I was the cause of all his problems even though he was the one who slept around. Worse, he didn't even have the balls to talk to me--he let his goddamned mother rip me a new one! The sorry coward hid behind his mother rather than face me when he ruined the plans I made for my birthday.

That was a phone call I will never forget, no matter how hard I have tried.

Yet the whole thing was my fault. I was the evil bitch. If you had lived through half the shit I did, you'd be utterly ashamed that those thoughts had ever popped into your head.

To (3):
If I had known that night at the doughnut shop would have been the last time I would ever see you, I would have told my lazy-ass coworkers to get off their fucking asses and take care of some shit while I spoke to you. I was just as surprised as you were when I found out that (1) had stopped speaking to you; I wish I could have told you why.

You would have thought it was completely stupid, just as I did. Maybe we would have had a nice long laugh over it, but who knows.

It was because you fell in love. You fell in love with the same girl that (1) had a huge boner for. Apparently, (1) was dumber than I thought: how could he get pissed off at something that really wasn't your fault? You didn't cast a love spell on her. You never tricked her into loving you. It just happened.

Try telling that to (1). You see, it was the fault of everyone else, not him. You, just like everyone else, got tangled up in his idiocy. It wasn't your fault. It wasn't anyone's fault. But we were the ones who had to dig ourselves out of the shit pile.

I miss you. I actually miss you. I never thought I would say that. Your hyperactivity, your insane jokes, your god-awful sense of direction, I miss all that. I just hope that you are doing well, wherever you are.

To (4):
Thanks for putting up with me and my bullshit. I appreciate that.

--Weasel, hoping time really will heal these wounds.