Bad Habits, Bad Jobs and Bad Spinach

I'm kind of irritated today: the kind of slow and reasonless irritation that comes from being exhausted, frustrated, bored and moments away from going to work.

I went grocery shopping to get out, today. Before that, I went to the manicurist to get my fake nails taken off. I have [had] the horrible horrible habit of biting at my nails and cuticles- mostly to the point where I have ripped bits of flesh and nail sticking out of the ends of my fingers. On the advice of a friend, I went to get acrylic nails put on. You can't bite acrylic nails, and because they feel so foreign, you really don't want to- and if you leave them on long enough, you will break the habit.

Well, she recommended a month, but after two weeks of those motherfuckers, I couldn't take it anymore. I was pretty much counting the minutes until the nail place opened for business today so I could get the things taken off. I'd rather bite my nails than have trashy acrylic foreign bodies glued to my body. That, and they clicked on everything I touched.

I felt the need to move to Jersey or something.

So, today my nails are short, natural and a light shade of pink (since I had to have them painted over to cover all of the scratches from removing the acrylics). I feel significantly better- and my hands look at lot prettier to me. I might keep going back to get regular manicures, I mean...I can spare $24/month for nice nails- especially if the thought of destroying a manicure would keep me from biting my nails and cuticles.

We'll see.

I'm not looking forward to work tonight. I'd rather crawl into bed and sleep for three days straight. I suppose it's probably because I've completely resolved to find a new job tomorrow, and the joy of knowing that I probably won't rely on the Shithole for the majority of my income makes going to the Shithole that much harder.


Oh, and I finally got some fresh spinach today- tomorrow, there will be a fantastic spinach salad consumed in my apartment.

Update, finally

Well, I have been gone from this blog for a while: and that is certainly not due to lack of material. Boyfriend and I have been as rocky as ever and work has been as upsetting and generally stupid as ever. I just haven't had the emotional and mental energy to rehash all of it to an anonymous blog audience (or person, or whatever).

So, quick recap:

Boyfriend and I went on a quick getaway vacation to Devil's Lake, Wisconsin. It was *gorgeous* and unfortunately the scene of a complete and total breakdown of our relationship. The fight before last was over our favorite topic (as of late- as it used to be over StupidFuckingCat, but now is over the frequency [or infrequency, as the case may be] of our romantic life). I had told him that I "won't have this fight again." Clearly, I was meaning to say that if I felt the need to bring the topic up, I was planning on leaving his stupid ass.

Well, due to a case of identity theft, Boyfriend's credit card account was frozen, and paying for the hotel room was left to me. I was not anticipating taking on this cost, but since I had about that amount of money kind of floating around, I only grumbled about it to myself. Naturally, I was expecting some glorious romance- maybe because I was shelling out a hundred dollars each night for a bed...And I intended to use said bed.

Boyfriend, however, spent the first night completely out of service because he was busy digesting the pound and a half of porterhouse steak he had just consumed at Johnny Delmonico's in Madison. The food was fantastic, by the way.

I was not impressed...Nor was I pleased, but I decided to lay down and shut up and finally fall asleep as it was just the first night of our vacation, and I figured there was plenty of time for romance later on.

WRONG.

We get up the next day and spend the day hiking around Devil's Lake. It was gorgeous, but being slightly pissed that I had not gotten so much as a hug, I was distant from him and spent a lot of time wandering off away from him and his godforsaken camera.

However, at some point, we decided to climb the bluff, and an hour after climbing straightfuckingup, we got to the top, slightly out of breath, and sit down on some kind of rock.

Suddenly, there is an arm around me, and a breathy whisper. The rest is for late night girl chats, but let's just say that I earned 1/2 of a point on the top of that bluff according to the Anne/Christine/Elissa/Dyna deviancy Point Challenge.


I am still the loser of the challenge, though.

Because he was the only one *ahem* pleased at the top of the bluff, I assumed that when we finally got un-lost and back to the car (by the way, I'm not really cool with navigating the "Tumbling Rocks" trail after dark) we would go back to the hotel room for my turn.

I was quite wrong, and therefore pissed beyond my ability to handle it. After 2/3 of a bottle of red wine, I became a "belligerent drunk" and a huge fight ensued: leading to a point where I had to call Ex Male Roommate to ask him to pick me up from Middle of Fucking Nowhere, Wisconsin because Boyfriend was preparing to leave me there while he drove back home.

He decided to stay when he heard me nonchalantly as Ex Male Roommate if he could give me a ride back to Suburb...And a place to stay for a couple of days while I found a new place to live.

From there, I thought I had finally ended this relationship...Until Boyfriend decided that we would NOT be going back to Suburb, but rather that we would stay in a hotel in Racine and "talk about us."

Never have I wanted to scream "MOTHER FUCK!" so loudly in my life.

So we got stuck in a hotel room...And we talked about us.

And my only hope is that we somehow found a way to make our love life less odious to me. I find it interesting that he cries so easily, and that so often he lays all of his cards on the table. Maybe I'm just a hard-hearted secretive old cunt. Maybe he's a softie.

I'm not really sure.

But I hate to see him cry.






We exchanged I love yous. I feel foreign saying it...like the words aren't even mine; as though someone else is saying them through my lips. I've decided to stop saying it unless he says it first in which case it is kind of a challenge: he's said it, and I have to respond. Anything less than "I love you, too" is a treasonous response...So I'm only saying it when he backs me into the corner with it.




I've also decided to find a different birth control pill. I have only been this emotionally unstable since I lived with my parents. I'll finish this month, but I'm going back to the gynecologist to get a different pill because this one makes me feel like I have one foot into the crazy house.