Sign at BotCon 2007.(Yeah, I'm always thankful for BotCon. And for the chance to hang out with my friends.)
Friday, November 27, 2009
Friday Photoblog: What I'm Thankful For Edition
Sign at BotCon 2007.(Yeah, I'm always thankful for BotCon. And for the chance to hang out with my friends.)
Friday, November 20, 2009
Friday Photoblog: One Man's Trash Edition
Theater display at Hollywood Cinema for Transformers. From July 2, 2007.(Prime and I put it together. Every piece is from our collection. Impressive, no?)
Wednesday, November 18, 2009
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."
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."
Friday, November 13, 2009
Friday Photoblog: Welcome Home Edition
Optimus Prime sign at BotCon 2007.(Nothing says "Hello there" better than a sign sporting a giant robot who looks ready to smack you in the face. Ah, I love BotCon...)
Tuesday, November 10, 2009
It Begins
We now have all of our Ca$hma$ crap set up, signs and all. Thankfully, we haven't been blaring any "holiday" music, which is nice. (The in-store ads on our TVs do from time to time, but it's bearable.) But the shopping has already begun. I've already sold more toys in the last week than I usually do during the year. Had a few $300+ orders, too.
At least the holiday doesn't completely suck; we have a few gift wrapping items that feature Bumblebee. I'm thinking of buying the store out of those.
--Weasel, "It'd be the only good thing to come this holiday. That and some Prozac."
At least the holiday doesn't completely suck; we have a few gift wrapping items that feature Bumblebee. I'm thinking of buying the store out of those.
--Weasel, "It'd be the only good thing to come this holiday. That and some Prozac."
Friday, November 06, 2009
Friday Photoblog: Post-Season Blues Edition
Sign at Miller Park, from my very first Milwaukee Brewers game.(Never thought I'd be a baseball fan and never thought I'd say I miss baseball season...)
Tuesday, November 03, 2009
Dear Mattel,
You're the same toy company that has a huge problem with making any female action figures, yet you produce this?
Palm Beach Sugar Daddy Ken. Are you serious?!
I guess so. Wow.
But seriously, what the fuck? This looks like a freaking parody, not a legitimate collectible.
Maybe you guys should quit while you're ahead. Or take a cold shower. Or both. Me, I'm just gonna go slam my head against my brick fireplace until I pass out. Then maybe I'll think that this was just a bad dream.
Sincerely,
--Weasel
Palm Beach Sugar Daddy Ken. Are you serious?!
I guess so. Wow.
But seriously, what the fuck? This looks like a freaking parody, not a legitimate collectible.
Maybe you guys should quit while you're ahead. Or take a cold shower. Or both. Me, I'm just gonna go slam my head against my brick fireplace until I pass out. Then maybe I'll think that this was just a bad dream.
Sincerely,
--Weasel
Friday, October 30, 2009
To "(1)"
Twelve years ago, you broke my heart, turned all of my former friends against me and turned my entire life into a living hell.
I have rarely spoken of what you did, rarely been able to tell any of my former friends what truly happened between us, rarely had the chance to defend myself. I would do so, but there is no point: My former friends have already made up their minds. It would make no difference if I spoke my piece to them. I would simply be wasting words.
But it was hell--you literally put me through hell. There is no other way of describing what you did to me then. The pain, the loneliness, it was hellish. It literally hurt for me to breathe. I spent days crying over what you had done. I spent weeks, completely and utterly alone.
I spent a year like this. It was one of the longest years of my life.
I would wish such a thing on no one. The pain, the depression, the bitterness--they were almost too much to handle. I'm still not entirely sure how I survived.
Well, that's not entirely true: the CybCon and its members helped pull me away from the brink. A little stingray named Depth Charge helped, too. Then there was Prime and my Action Master Bumblebee...
But for all you have done, I thank you. My life is so much better because of everything. I just wish you had done it all sooner. If you had, it would have spared us both a lot of pain.
May you find some happiness in the life you now live.
I have rarely spoken of what you did, rarely been able to tell any of my former friends what truly happened between us, rarely had the chance to defend myself. I would do so, but there is no point: My former friends have already made up their minds. It would make no difference if I spoke my piece to them. I would simply be wasting words.
But it was hell--you literally put me through hell. There is no other way of describing what you did to me then. The pain, the loneliness, it was hellish. It literally hurt for me to breathe. I spent days crying over what you had done. I spent weeks, completely and utterly alone.
I spent a year like this. It was one of the longest years of my life.
I would wish such a thing on no one. The pain, the depression, the bitterness--they were almost too much to handle. I'm still not entirely sure how I survived.
Well, that's not entirely true: the CybCon and its members helped pull me away from the brink. A little stingray named Depth Charge helped, too. Then there was Prime and my Action Master Bumblebee...
But for all you have done, I thank you. My life is so much better because of everything. I just wish you had done it all sooner. If you had, it would have spared us both a lot of pain.
May you find some happiness in the life you now live.
Friday Photoblog: "It's an Option" Edition
The Ironhide GMC Topkick pick-up truck, who made an appearance at the Paramount Party. BotCon 2009.(You have no idea how badly I wanted to hug him. But he probably would have smacked me if I had tried.)
Thursday, October 29, 2009
Montage
Step one you say, "We need to talk."
He walks, you say, "Sit down, it’s just a talk."
He smiles politely back at you,
You stare politely right on through,
October 30, 1997
I am sitting in (1)'s car, staring at him. He has just told me that he has slept with "L", (4)'s sister. It feels as if I have been kicked in the gut. I can barely breathe; how could this have happened? Wasn't I good enough for him? Didn't I love him enough? "You lied to me!" I scream.
He begs for forgiveness. Even though I am hurt and angry, I relent.
"We'll try and work this out," I say hopefully.
Some sort of window to your right.
As he goes left and you stay right,
Between the lines of fear and blame,
You begin to wonder why you came.
Three Weeks Later
I am on the college campus, sitting in (1)'s car. We have just argued; as to what it was about, I cannot remember. I only know that (1) is angry, so I try to calm him down. I begin to stroke his face with my free hand; (1) begins to growl like a wild animal. My thumb brushes close to his lips. Before I can react, he clamps his teeth around my thumb and bites down. Hard. I am too shocked to say anything or to even scream. When he lets me go he sneers, "It's not that bad. I didn't even break the skin."
For three days, a circlet of angry red marks surround my thumb. It takes a full week for them to finally fade.
Where did I go wrong? I lost a friend,
Somewhere along in the bitterness.
And I would have stayed up with you all night,
Had I known how to save a life.
December 1997
I am at (3)'s Christmas party. "L" is there. She apologizes to me but I am forced to wonder if she truly means it. Things are very awkward between us.
I don't want to look at her and I have to fight the urge to slap her.
Let him know that you know best,
'Cause after all you do know best.
Try to slip past his defense,
Without granting innocence.
January and February 1998
I can only remember rain, flood warnings and fighting. Every time I try and speak to (1), he begins to argue with me. Worse still, he is angry at (4) for some reason; he never tells me why. He only says that (4) is an asshole. "He treats me a helluva lot better than you do," I shoot back.
Only much later I would learn the truth: (4) got a promotion over (1) at the quick serve restaurant they both worked. Since I didn't automatically coddle (1) and say he deserved that spot (which he really didn't), then I was just as much an "enemy" as (4).
It would not be the last time (1) would behave like this.
Lay down a list of what is wrong.
The things you’ve told him all along.
Pray to god he hears you.
And I pray to god he hears you and,
March 21, 1998
I am at the Raleigh NC Fairgrounds. It is 45 degrees and drizzling rain. I have been waiting for (1) for almost three hours. He is supposed to be there by ten o'clock to pick me up; we are to attend an anime convention together. It is quarter to eleven and I fear I will have to leave before he finally shows. I am getting very concerned. Even though I'm freezing, I don't want to go into any of the nearby buildings, lest I miss him.
I am frustrated and near tears. Please don't make me leave yet, I think. He'll be here, I'm sure!
Where did I go wrong? I lost a friend,
Somewhere along in the bitterness.
And I would have stayed up with you all night,
Had I known how to save a life.
Later That Day
It's now 11:05 and I am in my mother's car. We are leaving. (1) has never arrived.
I spent most of the trip out of the Raleigh/Durham area in tears. The rest of the way home, I manage to take a few fitful naps.
As he begins to raise his voice,
You lower yours and grant him one last choice.
"Drive until you lose the road,
Or break with the ones you’ve followed."
March 23, 1998
(1) stops by my house. He is bringing me my souvenirs from the convention. He says he missed me, but does not act sorry at all. Oh and by the way, (2) had invited herself along. He had forgotten to tell me about that.
He gives me the pins he has bought for me with my money, then tells me he used a hundred dollars of my cash to buy himself a VHS box set. But don't worry, he assures me, he'll pay me back.
He drives away.
I never see (1) again.
He will do one of two things.
He will admit to everything,
Or he’ll say he’s just not the same,
And you’ll begin to wonder why you came.
Early June, 1998
I'm trying to call (4); his mother answers. As I try to politely pull myself away from her, she suddenly blurts out an apology. I'm not the only victim of "L".
It seems she has thrown herself at every one of (4)'s guy friends, save for (3). And she's broken up more than one couple. (4)'s mother is distraught and upset. "I'm so sorry she did this to you and (1)," she says. I accept her apology, but I am numb.
(1) was little more than a notch on "L"'s belt.
Where did I go wrong? I lost a friend,
Somewhere along in the bitterness.
And I would have stayed up with you all night,
Had I known how to save a life.
My Birthday
I call (1) and ask brightly, "Ready to go?" My plans have been in place for over a month--(1), (4) and I would go to a local pizza place and have lunch. It would be like old times.
"No," he says coldly.
"Why the hell not?!" I demand.
"Because (4) is going and he's an asshole," is the reply.
I say to hell with it all and go out by myself. When I get home, I call (1); he's eating dinner. I leave a message for him to call me at 8 o'clock. When he does, I lay down the law: Pay me back the one hundred dollars that he owes me by the first of August.
"Don't call me, I'll call you," I say sharply before ending the conversation.
For once, I refuse to cry. I realize he isn't worth my tears.
Where did I go wrong? I lost a friend,
Somewhere along in the bitterness.
And I would have stayed up with you all night,
Had I known how to save a life.
How to save a life.
How to save a life.
August 1998
I am at work. (3) drops by to visit. He is upset and confused; (1) is no longer talking to him. I call (1) and ask why only to hear the same tired answer: "Because he's an asshole."
I already know where this is going.
The bottom falls out of my world.
Where did I go wrong? I lost a friend,
Somewhere along in the bitterness.
September 8, 1998
I am out cashing my check. I meet a friend of mine named "B" and we begin to talk. It seems that (1) is crushing on (3)'s girlfriend; he even proceeded to throw a massive tantrum when she said hello to him. (1) also acted like a spoiled brat while in Raleigh, throwing screaming fits when things didn't go his way.
I am actually thankful that (1) stood me up.
I would never have been able to stand (1) or his behavior.
And I would have stayed up with you all night,
Had I known how to save a life.
November 1998
I am about to have all four of my wisdom teeth pulled. The phone rings at 10:30 that morning; I don't answer. Instead, I call (1) and ask if he had called. He says no.
We talk for a half an hour. In the end, we are both crying.
It is the last time I ever speak to (1).
Where did I go wrong? I lost a friend,
Somewhere along in the bitterness.
And I would have stayed up with you all night,
Had I known how to save a life.
A Few Years Later
It is October, a month that I loathe. The only thing that the changing leaves remind me of is how my life fell apart so long ago. Why does it hurt so much? Why did I fail? Why couldn't I save him?
Then it hits me--I did save someone. I saved myself.
And I am suddenly very grateful for all I have been through.
How to save a life.
How to save a life.
As you can imagine, this has been one of the most difficult things for me to write. To say it was painful would be putting it gently; I had to go through some of the worst times of my life in order to put this post together. So why in the hell would I do this? Because I am damned sick of bottling this up. I've never had the chance to actually tell my tale so I am doing it now. It's not an easy thing to read, I know, but I thank everyone for sticking with this.
It may be agonizing, but I feel so unburdened now. And trust me, after so many years of bullshit that is a great feeling indeed.
He walks, you say, "Sit down, it’s just a talk."
He smiles politely back at you,
You stare politely right on through,
October 30, 1997
I am sitting in (1)'s car, staring at him. He has just told me that he has slept with "L", (4)'s sister. It feels as if I have been kicked in the gut. I can barely breathe; how could this have happened? Wasn't I good enough for him? Didn't I love him enough? "You lied to me!" I scream.
He begs for forgiveness. Even though I am hurt and angry, I relent.
"We'll try and work this out," I say hopefully.
Some sort of window to your right.
As he goes left and you stay right,
Between the lines of fear and blame,
You begin to wonder why you came.
Three Weeks Later
I am on the college campus, sitting in (1)'s car. We have just argued; as to what it was about, I cannot remember. I only know that (1) is angry, so I try to calm him down. I begin to stroke his face with my free hand; (1) begins to growl like a wild animal. My thumb brushes close to his lips. Before I can react, he clamps his teeth around my thumb and bites down. Hard. I am too shocked to say anything or to even scream. When he lets me go he sneers, "It's not that bad. I didn't even break the skin."
For three days, a circlet of angry red marks surround my thumb. It takes a full week for them to finally fade.
Where did I go wrong? I lost a friend,
Somewhere along in the bitterness.
And I would have stayed up with you all night,
Had I known how to save a life.
December 1997
I am at (3)'s Christmas party. "L" is there. She apologizes to me but I am forced to wonder if she truly means it. Things are very awkward between us.
I don't want to look at her and I have to fight the urge to slap her.
Let him know that you know best,
'Cause after all you do know best.
Try to slip past his defense,
Without granting innocence.
January and February 1998
I can only remember rain, flood warnings and fighting. Every time I try and speak to (1), he begins to argue with me. Worse still, he is angry at (4) for some reason; he never tells me why. He only says that (4) is an asshole. "He treats me a helluva lot better than you do," I shoot back.
Only much later I would learn the truth: (4) got a promotion over (1) at the quick serve restaurant they both worked. Since I didn't automatically coddle (1) and say he deserved that spot (which he really didn't), then I was just as much an "enemy" as (4).
It would not be the last time (1) would behave like this.
Lay down a list of what is wrong.
The things you’ve told him all along.
Pray to god he hears you.
And I pray to god he hears you and,
March 21, 1998
I am at the Raleigh NC Fairgrounds. It is 45 degrees and drizzling rain. I have been waiting for (1) for almost three hours. He is supposed to be there by ten o'clock to pick me up; we are to attend an anime convention together. It is quarter to eleven and I fear I will have to leave before he finally shows. I am getting very concerned. Even though I'm freezing, I don't want to go into any of the nearby buildings, lest I miss him.
I am frustrated and near tears. Please don't make me leave yet, I think. He'll be here, I'm sure!
Where did I go wrong? I lost a friend,
Somewhere along in the bitterness.
And I would have stayed up with you all night,
Had I known how to save a life.
Later That Day
It's now 11:05 and I am in my mother's car. We are leaving. (1) has never arrived.
I spent most of the trip out of the Raleigh/Durham area in tears. The rest of the way home, I manage to take a few fitful naps.
As he begins to raise his voice,
You lower yours and grant him one last choice.
"Drive until you lose the road,
Or break with the ones you’ve followed."
March 23, 1998
(1) stops by my house. He is bringing me my souvenirs from the convention. He says he missed me, but does not act sorry at all. Oh and by the way, (2) had invited herself along. He had forgotten to tell me about that.
He gives me the pins he has bought for me with my money, then tells me he used a hundred dollars of my cash to buy himself a VHS box set. But don't worry, he assures me, he'll pay me back.
He drives away.
I never see (1) again.
He will do one of two things.
He will admit to everything,
Or he’ll say he’s just not the same,
And you’ll begin to wonder why you came.
Early June, 1998
I'm trying to call (4); his mother answers. As I try to politely pull myself away from her, she suddenly blurts out an apology. I'm not the only victim of "L".
It seems she has thrown herself at every one of (4)'s guy friends, save for (3). And she's broken up more than one couple. (4)'s mother is distraught and upset. "I'm so sorry she did this to you and (1)," she says. I accept her apology, but I am numb.
(1) was little more than a notch on "L"'s belt.
Where did I go wrong? I lost a friend,
Somewhere along in the bitterness.
And I would have stayed up with you all night,
Had I known how to save a life.
My Birthday
I call (1) and ask brightly, "Ready to go?" My plans have been in place for over a month--(1), (4) and I would go to a local pizza place and have lunch. It would be like old times.
"No," he says coldly.
"Why the hell not?!" I demand.
"Because (4) is going and he's an asshole," is the reply.
I say to hell with it all and go out by myself. When I get home, I call (1); he's eating dinner. I leave a message for him to call me at 8 o'clock. When he does, I lay down the law: Pay me back the one hundred dollars that he owes me by the first of August.
"Don't call me, I'll call you," I say sharply before ending the conversation.
For once, I refuse to cry. I realize he isn't worth my tears.
Where did I go wrong? I lost a friend,
Somewhere along in the bitterness.
And I would have stayed up with you all night,
Had I known how to save a life.
How to save a life.
How to save a life.
August 1998
I am at work. (3) drops by to visit. He is upset and confused; (1) is no longer talking to him. I call (1) and ask why only to hear the same tired answer: "Because he's an asshole."
I already know where this is going.
The bottom falls out of my world.
Where did I go wrong? I lost a friend,
Somewhere along in the bitterness.
September 8, 1998
I am out cashing my check. I meet a friend of mine named "B" and we begin to talk. It seems that (1) is crushing on (3)'s girlfriend; he even proceeded to throw a massive tantrum when she said hello to him. (1) also acted like a spoiled brat while in Raleigh, throwing screaming fits when things didn't go his way.
I am actually thankful that (1) stood me up.
I would never have been able to stand (1) or his behavior.
And I would have stayed up with you all night,
Had I known how to save a life.
November 1998
I am about to have all four of my wisdom teeth pulled. The phone rings at 10:30 that morning; I don't answer. Instead, I call (1) and ask if he had called. He says no.
We talk for a half an hour. In the end, we are both crying.
It is the last time I ever speak to (1).
Where did I go wrong? I lost a friend,
Somewhere along in the bitterness.
And I would have stayed up with you all night,
Had I known how to save a life.
A Few Years Later
It is October, a month that I loathe. The only thing that the changing leaves remind me of is how my life fell apart so long ago. Why does it hurt so much? Why did I fail? Why couldn't I save him?
Then it hits me--I did save someone. I saved myself.
And I am suddenly very grateful for all I have been through.
How to save a life.
How to save a life.
As you can imagine, this has been one of the most difficult things for me to write. To say it was painful would be putting it gently; I had to go through some of the worst times of my life in order to put this post together. So why in the hell would I do this? Because I am damned sick of bottling this up. I've never had the chance to actually tell my tale so I am doing it now. It's not an easy thing to read, I know, but I thank everyone for sticking with this.
It may be agonizing, but I feel so unburdened now. And trust me, after so many years of bullshit that is a great feeling indeed.
Monday, October 26, 2009
Best Wishes!
As you all know (or should know by now), today is Dan Gilvezan's birthday. As always, I wish him nothing but the best, for he is awesome.
Enjoy the day, Dan. Your fans love you, now and always.
Enjoy the day, Dan. Your fans love you, now and always.
Friday, October 23, 2009
Friday Photoblog: Cease and Desist Edition
LAPD police car. Spotted during the Hollywood tour at BotCon 2009.(No known brutality was reported.)
Thursday, October 22, 2009
Another Round of... Random Thoughts
Because I'm sick of bitching about work and want to blog about something different, here's a few more...
Random Thoughts (with added texture & flavor by Prime)
* Last month I found my old and incomplete journal. Apparently, I hate leaving things undone because I am writing in it. Again. I stopped writing in that book damn near ten years ago. (Undone...yyyyeah, the bathroom wants a coupla words with you...)
* The current weather in my area sucks. We are looking at grey skies, rain and cool temps. It's like fucking November already. I'm surprised that my SAD hasn't started kicking in! (/eyeroll)
* Store exclusives are going to make my ass go completely broke. Prime and I already have at least four copies of ROTF (two DVD, two BRD, for which we own precisely zero players)... and we're not done yet. May Primus have mercy upon my wallet. (Wha--your wallet, I'm the one payin' for 'em all...)
* I've been married a month. Let me take the time to say: Happy one month, Prime. I love ya, ass-for-breath. ;) (Backatcha, butt-for-brains.)
* I have no idea as to why, but I've been paging through my old high school yearbooks lately. Sweet Primus, I looked like ass. (Ya did not, dipstick.)
* I know I have often complained about October sucking out loud, but things are quite a bit better this year. I know, I know, I've been blogging about some royally shitty things that happened to me years ago.... but it's helped. I know it's the most boring, pointless shit to read, but thanks for reading it anyway. I've needed to get this slag off my chest for a very long time. (Yeah--your bra's heavy enough. HA!)
And that's all I've got to say. Tune in next time when I blog about something a lot more interesting.
--Weasel, "At least I hope it'll be more interesting than this."
* Last month I found my old and incomplete journal. Apparently, I hate leaving things undone because I am writing in it. Again. I stopped writing in that book damn near ten years ago. (Undone...yyyyeah, the bathroom wants a coupla words with you...)
* The current weather in my area sucks. We are looking at grey skies, rain and cool temps. It's like fucking November already. I'm surprised that my SAD hasn't started kicking in! (/eyeroll)
* Store exclusives are going to make my ass go completely broke. Prime and I already have at least four copies of ROTF (two DVD, two BRD, for which we own precisely zero players)... and we're not done yet. May Primus have mercy upon my wallet. (Wha--your wallet, I'm the one payin' for 'em all...)
* I've been married a month. Let me take the time to say: Happy one month, Prime. I love ya, ass-for-breath. ;) (Backatcha, butt-for-brains.)
* I have no idea as to why, but I've been paging through my old high school yearbooks lately. Sweet Primus, I looked like ass. (Ya did not, dipstick.)
* I know I have often complained about October sucking out loud, but things are quite a bit better this year. I know, I know, I've been blogging about some royally shitty things that happened to me years ago.... but it's helped. I know it's the most boring, pointless shit to read, but thanks for reading it anyway. I've needed to get this slag off my chest for a very long time. (Yeah--your bra's heavy enough. HA!)
And that's all I've got to say. Tune in next time when I blog about something a lot more interesting.
--Weasel, "At least I hope it'll be more interesting than this."
Wednesday, October 21, 2009
The "Burning" Question
A few days ago, I dug up my old high school yearbooks. Got a pretty big chuckle out of reading some of the shit I had written in them... until I got to my junior year.
Buried in the pages of my eleventh grade yearbook were several notes and a rough draft of a story. All of them were from my ex.
So here's the question: Do I keep the blasted things or should I just burn them?They're not taking up too much space; there's only like five of the damned things. And yes, they are an interesting look back on my high school years. But part of me just wants the blasted things gone. All those written words from him just sound so damned hollow.
So I'm forced to ask myself--should I just burn the damn things and get it over with? Or should I keep them as a reminder to myself? It's so damn hard to decide.
--Weasel, not as nostalgic now as she was a few days ago.
Buried in the pages of my eleventh grade yearbook were several notes and a rough draft of a story. All of them were from my ex.
So here's the question: Do I keep the blasted things or should I just burn them?They're not taking up too much space; there's only like five of the damned things. And yes, they are an interesting look back on my high school years. But part of me just wants the blasted things gone. All those written words from him just sound so damned hollow.
So I'm forced to ask myself--should I just burn the damn things and get it over with? Or should I keep them as a reminder to myself? It's so damn hard to decide.
--Weasel, not as nostalgic now as she was a few days ago.
Saturday, October 17, 2009
...whaaaat the heeeeeeell?
Prime is watching NASCAR.
...what?!
NASCAR?!!
--oh. He changed the channel 'before this invocation rot started'. Phew.
...wh--changed it BACK?!
Did...did he get replaced by his hick counterpart from an alternate univ--
...oh. Geez. Shoulda known it was something like that.
--Weasel, "That was damned scary. Heheheheheh..."
(/nervous yet relieved laughter)
...what?!
NASCAR?!!
--oh. He changed the channel 'before this invocation rot started'. Phew.
...wh--changed it BACK?!
Did...did he get replaced by his hick counterpart from an alternate univ--
...oh. Geez. Shoulda known it was something like that.
--Weasel, "That was damned scary. Heheheheheh..."
(/nervous yet relieved laughter)
Better Left Unsaid
It was September of 1997 and (1) was visiting (2) at her place of employment: a pizza place. (1) began to make idle chitchat with the pizza maker; it seems they got along rather well. As a joke (1) said, "So when's our first date?"
She took him seriously. So did (2).
What happened next makes me very glad that I was not in attendance: (2) unleashed a torrent of abusive language directed at me. It seems she thought I was nothing more than a controlling, domineering bitch that only used (1) for my own selfish purposes. According to her, (1) and I needed to break up immediately because he would be better off without me.
(1) was shocked and confused. When he told me, I could barely keep my jaw off the floor. I didn't know what to say or how to feel.
Three weeks later, (1) decided to stray. My life began to implode shortly thereafter.
I have often wondered if what (2) had said may have encouraged (1) to cheat. He admitted his confusion at her outburst; perhaps he may have believed that what he was doing was actually a good idea and he was just spreading his wings, so to speak. Maybe her words meant nothing to him. In either case, I'll never really know.
But what really hurt was (2)'s characterizations of me. I was the bitch. I was using (1). I was the problem.
First off, (1) was the user. (More on that on a later date.) Secondly, (2) had little room to talk--she was with a guy simply because she could use him as a way to move out of my parents house. She had already dated two different guys (the first of them she went back to twice) and dumped them soundly before suddenly throwing herself at a third man that she barely knew.
Yet I was the user. I was the problem. I was the one who needed to go away.
(2) got her wish: once (1) cheated it was the beginning of the end of our relationship. After weathering through "The Year of Hell", I eventually was able to pick myself off the floor and take a chance on love. Eventually I moved out on my own and lost contact with my friends in NC. Then out of the blue, (2) contacted me. We emailed each other a few times. Things seemed to be okay. Then (1) was mentioned.
In her email (2) said that he barely spoke to anyone, whether online or in person. She said she didn't know what I had done to him, but he just wasn't the same. But I wasn't totally to blame--I had met someone else and moved on with my life.
Again, it's my fault. (1) escapes the blame and I'm left holding the bag. It didn't matter that (1) cheated on me, that (1) began to turn his back on me, that (1) slowly began to turn all of my friends against me, it's all still my fault.
I'm fucking sick of being blamed for something that I did not do.
I haven't emailed (2) in a very long time. I honestly don't know if I want to; I'm sick and damned tired of trying to defend myself when I have done nothing wrong. It would be wonderful if my old friends would at least try to understand that.
Heaven only knows if that will ever happen, though.
I'm not holding my breath.
She took him seriously. So did (2).
What happened next makes me very glad that I was not in attendance: (2) unleashed a torrent of abusive language directed at me. It seems she thought I was nothing more than a controlling, domineering bitch that only used (1) for my own selfish purposes. According to her, (1) and I needed to break up immediately because he would be better off without me.
(1) was shocked and confused. When he told me, I could barely keep my jaw off the floor. I didn't know what to say or how to feel.
Three weeks later, (1) decided to stray. My life began to implode shortly thereafter.
I have often wondered if what (2) had said may have encouraged (1) to cheat. He admitted his confusion at her outburst; perhaps he may have believed that what he was doing was actually a good idea and he was just spreading his wings, so to speak. Maybe her words meant nothing to him. In either case, I'll never really know.
But what really hurt was (2)'s characterizations of me. I was the bitch. I was using (1). I was the problem.
First off, (1) was the user. (More on that on a later date.) Secondly, (2) had little room to talk--she was with a guy simply because she could use him as a way to move out of my parents house. She had already dated two different guys (the first of them she went back to twice) and dumped them soundly before suddenly throwing herself at a third man that she barely knew.
Yet I was the user. I was the problem. I was the one who needed to go away.
(2) got her wish: once (1) cheated it was the beginning of the end of our relationship. After weathering through "The Year of Hell", I eventually was able to pick myself off the floor and take a chance on love. Eventually I moved out on my own and lost contact with my friends in NC. Then out of the blue, (2) contacted me. We emailed each other a few times. Things seemed to be okay. Then (1) was mentioned.
In her email (2) said that he barely spoke to anyone, whether online or in person. She said she didn't know what I had done to him, but he just wasn't the same. But I wasn't totally to blame--I had met someone else and moved on with my life.
Again, it's my fault. (1) escapes the blame and I'm left holding the bag. It didn't matter that (1) cheated on me, that (1) began to turn his back on me, that (1) slowly began to turn all of my friends against me, it's all still my fault.
I'm fucking sick of being blamed for something that I did not do.
I haven't emailed (2) in a very long time. I honestly don't know if I want to; I'm sick and damned tired of trying to defend myself when I have done nothing wrong. It would be wonderful if my old friends would at least try to understand that.
Heaven only knows if that will ever happen, though.
I'm not holding my breath.
Friday, October 16, 2009
Friday Photoblog: Moving Pictures Edition
Sign at the Fitchburg IMAX theatre. From our little roadtrip to see ROTF this summer.(The trip cost us a tire, but it was so worth it!)
Tuesday, October 13, 2009
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....
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....
Saturday, October 10, 2009
Because I Owe Him This Much
Eleven years ago, someone saved my life. And he wasn't a human. He was a Maximal.
His name was Depth Charge. And this is our story.
Back in late August of 1998, I saw my friend (3) for the last time. At the time, I had no idea that I would never see him again. If I had known, I would have done things quite differently. But that is beside the point.
(3) visited me at the doughnut shop where I worked. He told me something extremely distressing: (1), my then paramour, was no longer speaking to him. This was right after we had been hit by Hurricane Bonnie.
(3) had no idea what was going on. Neither did I.
I was confused, to put it mildly. (1) and (3) had been friends for nearly a decade; why would anyone want to throw that sort of friendship away? It made no sense to me. My curiosity got the better of me and the next day I called (1) under the guise of my usual post-hurricane check up. I asked him how things were going and if he was okay. He said yes, but curtly. I asked if he had spoken to (3) and he replied no. I asked why. The answer shocked me.
"Because he's an asshole."
My heart dropped to my knees. The last time I had heard (1) utter this sentence, he had been referring to (4) and they had stopped speaking months ago.
I knew exactly where this was going--I already knew the next act in this hideous play. (1) would begin to blame (3) for all of his problems then shut him out of his life, all the while complaining how (3) was alienating him. It was a sick, twisted fantasy that I had dealt with for over ten months: I myself had been blamed by (1) for his failings. What made that worse was the fact that most of my former friends had taken (1)'s side. It seemed as though (4) were the only human being who gave a damn about me.
Most of my former friends didn't like (4), for whatever reason. At that point, I was past caring what they thought. They didn't seem to care about me anyway.
My life had been spiralling out of control since the end of October '97 and this was the final blow. I had been fighting depression for many weeks but on that day, I laid down arms. The depression won. I had no desire to go on with my pathetic excuse for a life.
I no longer lived, I merely existed. My life had fallen into a pathetic routine of eating, sleeping and working. I cared about nothing and truly believed that no one cared about me. I was worthless, the scum of the earth--how could I not be? I had driven the one boy who cared about me into the arms of another girl. Of course, I had never forced him to cheat but it was my fault all the same. I was little more than a waste of flesh. How dare I draw breath?
I spent a number of nights lying in bed and staring at the ceiling, fighting the tears. I was not worth shedding tears over. I was nothing. I was scum. I deserved no one's pity, especially not my own.
I hated myself.
The days turned into weeks, the weeks into months. Autumn came and the threat of hurricanes faded. One bright fall day, I decided I needed to get out of the house for a few hours so I went for a ride. I hit my local Toys R Us, KMart, Target. Then I headed to Wal-Mart.
I spotted him, sitting on one of the shelves in toys: Depth Charge. He was gorgeous. Since I had just been paid, I bought him. Satisfied, I took him home.
For two weeks, he sat in my bedroom, unopened. I have no idea why I didn't open him immediately; I only know I just didn't. But one crisp October evening, I decided to take him out of his box. Grabbing a pair of scissors from my kitchen, I began to slice into the tape.
"Let's get you out of this little prison," I said softly.
One moment later, I froze.
I was just as much a prisoner as Depth Charge, only I had locked myself into a prison of my own making. But unlike Depth Charge, no one was going to come around and let me out. I had to do it on my own.
It was enough of a jolt to find urge me into action.
I actually began to go out again. Instead of sitting at home brooding, I went out and tried to live--I went out looking for new Transformers again. Since I had no way of getting on the internet at home, I asked my parents for a computer for Christmas. In other words, I started to reclaim my life.
It wasn't easy. It took many months and quite a few "baby steps" to actually get back to a semi-normal life. But I owe everything to a Transformer. If it weren't for Depth Charge and one simple, throw away comment I may have never gotten over those feelings of worthlessness.
Being a Transformer geek saved my life. Having this hobby helped me to get over one of the worst times in my life. And I've never been happier.
His name was Depth Charge. And this is our story.
Back in late August of 1998, I saw my friend (3) for the last time. At the time, I had no idea that I would never see him again. If I had known, I would have done things quite differently. But that is beside the point.
(3) visited me at the doughnut shop where I worked. He told me something extremely distressing: (1), my then paramour, was no longer speaking to him. This was right after we had been hit by Hurricane Bonnie.
(3) had no idea what was going on. Neither did I.
I was confused, to put it mildly. (1) and (3) had been friends for nearly a decade; why would anyone want to throw that sort of friendship away? It made no sense to me. My curiosity got the better of me and the next day I called (1) under the guise of my usual post-hurricane check up. I asked him how things were going and if he was okay. He said yes, but curtly. I asked if he had spoken to (3) and he replied no. I asked why. The answer shocked me.
"Because he's an asshole."
My heart dropped to my knees. The last time I had heard (1) utter this sentence, he had been referring to (4) and they had stopped speaking months ago.
I knew exactly where this was going--I already knew the next act in this hideous play. (1) would begin to blame (3) for all of his problems then shut him out of his life, all the while complaining how (3) was alienating him. It was a sick, twisted fantasy that I had dealt with for over ten months: I myself had been blamed by (1) for his failings. What made that worse was the fact that most of my former friends had taken (1)'s side. It seemed as though (4) were the only human being who gave a damn about me.
Most of my former friends didn't like (4), for whatever reason. At that point, I was past caring what they thought. They didn't seem to care about me anyway.
My life had been spiralling out of control since the end of October '97 and this was the final blow. I had been fighting depression for many weeks but on that day, I laid down arms. The depression won. I had no desire to go on with my pathetic excuse for a life.
I no longer lived, I merely existed. My life had fallen into a pathetic routine of eating, sleeping and working. I cared about nothing and truly believed that no one cared about me. I was worthless, the scum of the earth--how could I not be? I had driven the one boy who cared about me into the arms of another girl. Of course, I had never forced him to cheat but it was my fault all the same. I was little more than a waste of flesh. How dare I draw breath?
I spent a number of nights lying in bed and staring at the ceiling, fighting the tears. I was not worth shedding tears over. I was nothing. I was scum. I deserved no one's pity, especially not my own.
I hated myself.
The days turned into weeks, the weeks into months. Autumn came and the threat of hurricanes faded. One bright fall day, I decided I needed to get out of the house for a few hours so I went for a ride. I hit my local Toys R Us, KMart, Target. Then I headed to Wal-Mart.
I spotted him, sitting on one of the shelves in toys: Depth Charge. He was gorgeous. Since I had just been paid, I bought him. Satisfied, I took him home.
For two weeks, he sat in my bedroom, unopened. I have no idea why I didn't open him immediately; I only know I just didn't. But one crisp October evening, I decided to take him out of his box. Grabbing a pair of scissors from my kitchen, I began to slice into the tape.
"Let's get you out of this little prison," I said softly.
One moment later, I froze.
I was just as much a prisoner as Depth Charge, only I had locked myself into a prison of my own making. But unlike Depth Charge, no one was going to come around and let me out. I had to do it on my own.
It was enough of a jolt to find urge me into action.
I actually began to go out again. Instead of sitting at home brooding, I went out and tried to live--I went out looking for new Transformers again. Since I had no way of getting on the internet at home, I asked my parents for a computer for Christmas. In other words, I started to reclaim my life.
It wasn't easy. It took many months and quite a few "baby steps" to actually get back to a semi-normal life. But I owe everything to a Transformer. If it weren't for Depth Charge and one simple, throw away comment I may have never gotten over those feelings of worthlessness.
Being a Transformer geek saved my life. Having this hobby helped me to get over one of the worst times in my life. And I've never been happier.
Friday, October 09, 2009
Friday Photoblog: Hasta La Vista Edition
A T-70 Terminator from T2 3-D: Battle Across Time at Universal Studios Hollywood.(I knew they were fake, but they still scared the living hell outta me...)
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