Sunday, August 14, 2016

X's trashy ass...

"I don't create problems, I solve them."

yes, you, the thirty year old pedophile basement dweller who still lives with mommy and daddy and hasn't advanced beyond such a lowly position, who nobody likes at all and everyone barely tolerates, are not the "problem", you apparently "solve" them?

call me when you stop lying, hideous fraud.

see kids, this is why i started carrying pepper spray. he still thinks he can talk to me outside of work setting, he must be delusional.

Tuesday, August 2, 2016

additional update on X

it's amazing how nulled my tastebuds are when i'm sick, it's almost like one minute they've had a reawakening, but the next, they can hardly detect sugar or saltiness, let alone flavor. Either way, I just chowed down an icepop and....

oh wait, you wanted to hear more about the creep, right?

well, okay... in other work related news that should surprise no one, X is shockingly, proving to have creepier vibes about him, and my fellow coworker who is also getting weirded on by him 'subtly', K, came out with more disturbing news.

apparently K, who unlike me, does not just look underage, but is actually underage, has had X reportedly follow her out to her vehicle. She didn't really give mass detail beyond that, but I believe her, because once again, we seem to have a similar type of appearance, pale with long, dark hair, brown eyes, and fairly small frames.

So now that this guy has an established ''type" of young looking jailbait, reverse jailbait, girls that'll land him in jail- besides looking like he just stepped out of a To Catch a Predator pictorial as part of Your Momma's Basement magazine to stand outside high schools and take upskirt shots- I can say, wholeheartedly, that I am going to mace him if he approaches me again.

Besides repeatedly staring at me with a lolling, weird expression from wherever he seems to stand on the shifts I do work with him (let's see, I've caught him doing it outside of the store, inside the store, and when passing me, and every time, I just want to take one of the customer's objects and thrust it at his ugly face), he seems to have gotten the message to avoid me, but he won't stop avoiding K because K doesn't want to trouble anyone and won't tell him boldly, at least, in the manner that I did, to fuck offffff.

Oh, also, he never asked any coworkers but teenage girls thus far to go out to 'dinner' with him, even if it's just to linger around and get takeout, and that in itself made me want to vomit. So yeah, roundabout back to feeling used by some weirdo who gets off on going on fakedates or something with teenage girls because he's too creepy to get an actual women his own fucking age.

At least Nasujima was hot, for crying out loud. Fictitious psychos ofc are fucking fictional, but foreal, encountering creeps irl makes me want to smash some walls.

Just sack this guy already. Like, he lives with mommy and daddy in a big ass house, he can mooch off them for the rest of his life, as he's clearly doing now, he can afford not to be there, the rest of us don't really find him to be anything but a pathetic worm.

disordered venting #125016





 "Each and every person is full of misunderstandings."

 

today I stared at a bottle of codine cough medicine from two years ago, that'd been unopened for at least one year, the last instance I had the flu. It's expired by over a year at this point. I played with a lot of knives, I had to dislodge them from my chest and my back, from my eyes and my ears. One segment of my life in its entirety felt like I was sinking in tightening mud, as wounds bled out, and even though I don't wish to reminisce, sometimes I have to, the good and the bad, from who I was in the past. And I stare at the syrup, inhale its smell as I take the last bits to ail my current condition of combined conjunctivitis & respiratory inflammation, gulp it down, savor its bitterness, hoping to one day stomach much worse emotional bitterness with some level of fucking decency. Maybe I sit here with a dry cough insomniac, wondering why I'm waiting for my life to proceed in the same way, as my father gripes at me for tortoise speed advancement. Not my fault I'm in a lull, i'm just crazy. Today was Murphy's Law Day, in accordance with the fabled concept that everything that could've gone wrong, it did. Nigh everything was of course, somehow not an improvement. He blew a tire, had to walk to the house, when the spare was revealed to be flat, later the axel broken, he walked to the house and I sat trembling the air conditioning, wishing to just escape elsewhere, instantly, or surrender to the sleeplessness that'd been gnawing at me since 9am when I was dragged to the doctor's and given two shots to my lower hips. Maybe the expired cough syrup is symbolically representative of my life, bitterly empty, once useful, but currently not very much so, as I lie about in a state of illness waiting for something to just come down and free me from the constant coughing that becomes emptier by the day, devoid of purpose other than to symbolize the weakness of my lungs. Maybe karma, after two years, has decided I'm not forgivable enough, and also christened me with the pleasant gift of pinkeye to emphasize. It's not fair that after all I've done I can just go back to being sick, bitchy Audrey that wants to choke everything, it's not right, and I don't know. I thought I was too good for this. Ha ha, I'm rambling again. I monologue like a freak. Fucking shitstain. I'm a fucking stain.