"Hey Lois! Diarrhea."

NO MORE SPENDING, BRE!!!

This is getting out of control. And my horrible energy drink addiction is back in full force.

If it's not one thing, it's another. "Well, I've already spent $100. Why not spend another?"

Jesus. We are never going to get out of Arlington if I keep doing this.

I DON'T need any more shoes. I have over 40 pairs and I only wear like three of them. HEH. It's absolutely ridiculous.

I DON'T need any more dvds! I have almost everything I could ever want on dvd, PLUS every single volume of Family Guy. I DON'T NEED ANY MORE!!!

No more clothes. I can deal with the few I have for work. As long as I look decent and the clothes are clean, who cares if I only have a few outfits for work? I only work there part time anyway.

No more. DONE. The only thing standing between me and moving forward in my life is ME.

With that said, I really need to figure out a way to print out my divorce papers. Apparently our printer is broken. Eff my life.

I need to find a new/second job, as well. Eff.

It's so hard to form coherent thoughts while watching Family Guy. Fail.

Fuck my life.

We need to meet people who don't drink. Or, even better, people who aren't threatened by the fact that we don't drink. 'Cause I'm not exactly wanting to meet people who are fanatical about being sober, 'cause in my experience, they're kind of weird and overwhelming.

*sigh*

It's really fucking sad to think that we've been drinking for SO LONG that after we quit, we can't think of anything to do other than go to a bar.

Or go shopping and spend gratuitous amounts of money that we could be saving to move to Seattle :/

I dunno. What the hell do sober people do? Literally EVERYTHING innocent I can think of (skating, bowling, shows) eventually leads to someone wanting to shove booze in our faces. I know one day I'll be able to handle that kind of situation better, but right now I just don't think I can handle the pressure.

This is killing me. I spend hours racking my brain for things to go out and do. When I finally deduce that there's nothing to do (for lack of money or whatever), all I can think about is painting. And I don't have half the shit I need to start on that. It's really goddamn frustrating. I've got two gallons of white paint and a standard roller and tray, but that's it. I need an extending one for the ceiling, painting tape and a bunch of tarps would be good, heh. Plus I need to wash the shit out of the walls again.

So instead, I clear all the trash out of our room, pick everything up, put it away and get on the computer. Or read. Or sometimes write, which lately has only been making me crazy because my hand can't move fast enough to keep up with my brain. I'm so used to typing everything nowadays.

The job: frustrating. Let's just say I'm not exactly a fan of new bosses starting, them kissing your ass and trying to "get to know you" and act like your friend just so they can better control you. Maybe I'm crazy to think that way, but it's happened to me just like that before. Also, not a fan of bosses who sit and brag about their expensive lives. This lady won't shut up about her goddamn iphone (you know those people who refer to their phones by name instead of saying "my phone"? That's her.). Or how she drove "the other car" to work today. And she unloads stuff she just shouldn't on us about her daughter's relationship problems. Which IMMEDIATELY reminded me of Kris. I DON'T WANT ANOTHER KRIS. I don't want to feel like I have to pass out heaps of fucking sympathy to my co-workers. I JUST WANT TO GO TO WORK TO WORK! *I* don't fucking sit around at work and bitch about my life to everyone! Goddamn! The rest of us just kinda quote ridiculous movies to each other and joke around.

Yeah, I need a new job. And soon. I'm losing my mind there.

I need to go clean something.

Obligatory angsty blog!

So, really. You guys. Something that has REALLY been bothering me is the fact that people WILL NOT believe the fact that I've quit drinking. People still call me and tell me they want to get fucked up. People still say, "Hey, there's this party..." and even after I explain that I quit drinking because I turn into a tragic, mean fucking bitch, they won't let up. At all.

"Awww, come on! Are you sure? It's tasty! I'll buy you a drink!"

I'M. NOT. DRINKING. ANYMORE. I have quit drinking. This does not mean I've slowed down. This does not mean I'm taking a little breather. I have not had one drop of alcohol in over two months. I feel and look better than I've felt in over two years.

I'm not Bre, the drunken, tragic bitch anymore. If you can't accept that, move the fuck on.

Also. I do not appreciate the fact that people I once thought were my friends are now talking mad shit about me. And not really behind my back, either. They're making the mistake of saying it to the one person who tells me EVERYTHING, no matter how painful it might be to hear. So to all of you, thanks so much for being so fucking sweet to my face and then turning right around and calling me 'SUCH a crazy bitch'. Thanks so much. 'Cause I never uttered ONE fucking mean thing about ANY of you in the entire time I've known you all. And even worse, one of you, who I thought was a GREAT friend-- if I ever had a problem with you, I brought it straight to your face. But I guess you don't want to show me the same respect. Thanks.

Okay. Got that off my chest. Yay!

In happy news. Blew a shitload of money on shoes and clothes and movies and household supplies last weekend. I got the best. Pumps. EVAR. I really need to post a picture of them, 'cause somehow I can't find them online. Which is nuts.

Just got Turr's Mac all internetted in my room today after buying a new fancy router. So we're all networked and glorious now. Watching movies on one screen and interbutting on the other. It's retarded boss.

Work is okay. It's been super slow the last week, but whatever. I'm making money. And we finally got a new store manager. She seems nice so far.

Getting my new phone around the 25th. This means I'm changing my number. I'll let you all know when that happens.

Other than all that, starting next Friday, I'm saving up about half of my paychecks toward an apartment. We're moving kinda far. Heh. I'll leave it at that.

And finally, Terry and I are doing fucking fantastic. I am madly in love with a gorgeous moose, San Diego! I love you so much, baby.

Anyhow. Watching Semi-Pro and drinking tea, winding down for bed. Wewt! I have to work tomorrow and it's balls. Bah. Oh well. Need monies.

FUCK.

As the weeks go by, it seems more and more people keep trying to turn Terry and I against each other. This time it's the roommates.

Again, the LAST PEOPLE I would expect to try and fuck with us.

Yeah, we've got shit to deal with. Nothing's always perfect, but we're dealing with it. That doesn't mean you get to try and pry it out of someone, rile them up about it and DRIVE THEM TO DRINK AGAIN, and all the while sit and talk shit about how crazy you think I am and that you think I have fucking ulterior motives in my relationship. FUCK YOU. The thing is, our problems are OURS. They're NONE OF YOUR FUCKING BUSINESS. Are you really so fucking bored with your lives that you have to try and stir up drama to keep entertained? This is fucking bullshit. We are NOT IN HIGH SCHOOL ANYMORE.

It's official. I have like five true fucking friends left. Apparently everyone else just keeps me around for some sick sort of entertainment. And what I'm just now realizing is that since I'm not getting wasted and making a spectacle out of MYSELF anymore, they want to go ahead and do it for me.

I. AM. DONE.

Who the fuck is gonna be next? Might as well get the fucking heartbreak out of the way NOW.

This place was supposed to be a safe haven, but now I can't even stand to be in the same room as you two anymore. FUCK.

The customer is always EFFED.

This is why I hate working at the outlet mall--

Yesterday this middle-aged asian guy comes in and tells me he 'forgot' to use his VIP coupon book when he made his purchase. Our deal in the coupon book is that you spend $100 pre-tax and get $25 off your purchase. I check his receipt to make sure he spent over $100 (he had spent $200) then totally forgot how much drama we see from this kind of shit and refer him to my supervisor, Michael ('cause I can't do returns), who gets exploded upon.

Here's the deal. VERY OFTEN, we get big spenders who come in and buy $100 or more worth of shit, then LATER they find out about the VIP book, go buy it in the food court, then come back and say they 'forgot' to use it. Our policy is that you present it AT THE TIME OF PURCHASE. But EVERYONE who gets denied this $25 off freaks the fuck out and we have to give it to them anyway because they threaten to turn us in to everyone under the sun. So we have to call the DM for approval, let them return all their shit and buy it back with the coupon.

This guy freaks out, returns his shit and then LEAVES even though Michael was gonna let him buy it all back with the discount. So Michael re-sensors everything and puts most of it back. Then two women I'm assuming are his wife and daughter come back in, ask him to find everything he just put away, tell him he's being ridiculous and that he's a RETARD, demand his name (so they can turn him in? To WHO?!?!), then flip out because they mis-counted the items and thought there were only 6 things being rung up when there were SEVEN ALL ALONG. Then they're satisfied and leave.

Here's a choice tidbit from their exchange of words:
"What's your name?"
"Michael *****"
*tries to pronounce it* "What?"
"Michael *****. Would you like me to write it down?"
"No, I have a BLACKBERRY." *waves the phone around*

OH. MY. GOD. My broke-ass BOYFRIEND AND EVERYONE I KNOW HAS A BLACKBERRY! You think that's some kind of status symbol? HAAAA!!!

People are fucking crazy. I really, REALLY loathe them. Like, people LITERALLY come into this mall to start shit with associates who only make minimum wage or just over that. Do you hate us because we're so much lower than you? Because we try to adhere to COMPANY POLICIES BECAUSE IT'S OUR GODDAMN JOB? These people think we're trying to fuck with them or something. They forget that we have little-to-no control over anything. There's a big fucking boss over our heads, just like you have. Idiots. The only difference is that we're doing all this for slave wages and WE don't get to go out and blow $200 in one store on fucking clothes.

EVERYONE REMEMBER: RETAIL IS FULL OF LIES AND MISLEADING ADVERTISING. IT'S CALLED 'MERCHANDISING'. Corporations just want your fucking money. Plain and simple. We don't see ANY of it.

Before that, however, I had this cute little mexican lady come in and buy a shitload of fragrance gift sets and tshirts for her boss and family. She made a mess of everything, but at least it was while we were slow as eff and she was sweet and brought us up over day. Heh.

Fuck my retail life, though. I really get sick of it exponentially as the years go by. I really don't want a job that makes me jaded and angry and unable to relax until like 30 minutes after I come home. BAH. How most of you put up with it with a smile on your face for YEARS, I have no idea. But kudos to all of you.

On a lighter note...

Now that I've got that off my chest, I should probably do a life update. Heh.

Still sober. It's been something like a month. I'm trying not to get too crazy about keeping track of my progress, 'cause every time I've obsessively tracked days/months/whathaveyou, I've fallen off the wagon shortly after. Who knows why. No AA, no nothing. Just me and Terry's support and love of each other, keeping reminders in the back of my head of exactly why I don't want to be drunk, finding fun stuff to do that doesn't involve drinking/bars and A LOT OF SEX. It helps a lot more than you'd think. And with that said, not only the quantity, but the quality of that area itself has improved leaps and bounds. Holy. Fucking. Hell. Fuck drunk sex, you guys.

We've been tanning lately. I think we've gone a grand total of four times in the medium-pressure beds and we're already dark as fuck. I've never in my life seen every inch of my skin this dark and it's nuts. My stomach, lower back, upper thighs and ass have been white (well, as white as a white-mexican gets, I guess, heh!) my whole life. It's a new experience, heh! I'm gonna go on Thursday to even out my sides and then I'll take some bikini pictures. Heh. 'Cause I'm just crazy-dark.

I guess the only things that are still bad right now are the smoking, energy drinks (drinking Wired from the dollar store until I get paid, which sucks 'cause they have high-fructose corn syrup in them. Monsters and Rockstars don't have that and I cut it out of my diet a LONG time ago.) and the tanning. Not gonna get crazy about that last one, though. Just trying to even my skin out 'cause I can. Gonna go two more times and then maintain it once a week or so.

Next month Terry and I are gonna start yoga. There's this studio in a barn in Island Crossing that does yoga, pilates and bellydancing. I'm thinking I'll start the yoga and then take bellydancing sometime in October. Should be fun.

There's also been talk of a road trip to Palm Desert sometime this fall. Terry has family down there he hasn't seen in a long time. I'm really hoping that pans out. And everyone knows I love a road trip. Gotta start saving some cash.

Work has been pretty lame. I'm thankful to have a job and everything, but I really get tired of the retail environment. Especially in that goddamn mall. I need something that's a little more challenging and... certain. Not to mention a higher wage. Heh. Everyone always tells me to slow down 'cause I work too goddamn hard, but I don't feel like I am at all. I hate not being busy and having to create things to do. And I sure as hell am not just gonna stand around. If I'm at work, there should be WORK to be done, ya know? I'm not gonna be one of those people who gets paid to stand behind a cashwrap all day. Besides, when you're not doing anything, your shift just fucking CRAWLS. I swear, if I'm not a supervisor within a couple months...

Other than all that, not much is going on. Just cleaning house and working and driving (and humping, heh!). My birthday is just over two weeks away. I wanna do something epic, as I always want to every year, but I don't think much is going on. Bumbershoot is on my brithday weekend, but the only good bands are playing Sunday and Monday. BAH. And it doesn't look that great anyhow. Just Yeah Yeah Yeahs on Sunday, Black Eyed Peas, Franz Ferdinand, Metric and Modest Mouse on Monday. Hmmmm.

I'll find something. Be it a show or tattoos or something.

Anyhow. I think I'm gonna go do some more laundry. Yusss.

Goodbye, doormat Bre.

So it's been an interesting and painful past couple weeks. My relationship with Terry has been tested with sobriety, jealousy, and ultimately betrayal by a girl I thought was an extremely good friend. Turns out she's just as bad, if not WORSE than all the other people I've kicked to to curb over the years. I saw all the signs, heard everything everyone was saying about her for the last 4 years, but thought that somehow *I* would be different. That she actually cared about me. Nope. Just another goddamn doormat to wipe her filthy stilettos on.

I'm really going to have to start being more careful. All these 'friendships' have been exactly the same. I'll admit, I'm very, very attracted to super-outspoken, outgoing, ambitious and slightly obnoxious people because I wish *I* could be more like that. But they all tend to covet everything I have and fuck me over in the end. That's done with. And I'm really going to stop being such a passive fuck. ESPECIALLY if someone flirts with/says inappropriate things to my man. I used to think there was no logical reason for me to flip out on people for this, but I guess there really is. He's MINE. He's with ME. NOT YOU. I think it's really sad that there are some people out there who have to be reminded of this. Just because you can't have him doesn't mean you can get a little taste by using sexual innuendo and jumping all over him. Do you think I'm stupid? Do you think I can't see that you're throwing yourself at MY MAN with thoughts in your head of fucking the shit out of him with no fucking regard to my goddamn feelings? How the fuck would YOU feel if you saw the same thing happening in front of you? Wait, you already KNOW how that feels.

We've been tested and we've SURVIVED. And NO ONE is going to fuck this up for us. NO ONE.

Us: WIN.

You: FAIL. For coveting something that's not yours and almost destroying it EXACTLY the way the same thing was destroyed for you.

Goodbye.