Look what the cat drug in

My job is easy. I can do it in my sleep. I basically work a few hours, get paid for a lot of hours, and no one fucks with me. I won't say I'm irreplaceable, but I'm pretty damn Teflon coated.

The only thing that gets my shit twisted is the crew under me. It used to change almost monthly because apparently no one in this fucking city gives a shit about paying their bills. I've been there nearly 10 years and I'd need all the fingers of an ekamukhi to count how many have come and gone. After a few years of deliberately fucking with the useless ones until they finally decide to go elsewhere (because I may be boss of my crew but be fucked if I can fire any of them), I've managed to weed my crew out until I have all but one slot stocked with smart, entertaining, cynical fuckers like me. Hey I don't give a shit if they eat babies as long as they're dependable.

After dozens and dozens of wastes of hair and hide, Julie came under my command. Smart and funny, Julie was easy to get along with and figured the job out in minutes. Best of all, she didn't engage in those bullshit games women love so much. You know the ones. Shit Stirring. Backstabbing. Gossip Hour. Bullshit like that is why I have precious few female friends.
For the first time in a long time, I let myself think I'd found one that would last. Maybe even one I could be friends with.

Last week I went into work and was surprised that Julie wasn't already in. First 15 minutes, then a half hour passed, and still she hadn't shown up. I texted her asking if she was coming in any time soon, but got no reply. Calls went unanswered. I texted another employee to see if he'd heard from her. His attempts to reach her also failed. By the time an hour had come and gone, I couldn't kid myself any more. Julie had quit.

It wasn't the first time someone had pulled that shit, but this time I felt betrayed. I'd started to think of her as a friend, but obviously she thought so little of me that I wasn't even worth a phone call and a line of bullshit about joining the Reserves and being shipped out the next day. She just left me there for over an hour to wait like an idiot.

Fucking cunt.

Tonight Julie was at work. After a fucking WEEK of not showing up or calling, the bitch was at work. Fired? Hell no, my boss isn't going to risk having Julie file for unemployment. He's not going to fire anyone. Of course, she came in all apologetic and embarrassed, trying to explain to me why she never showed up or bothered to call and let me know she wouldn't be coming in. Right?

Fuck no, she came in like nothing ever happened. I wanted to slap her teeth straight. No apology, no explanation. Nothing.

Her roommate was happy to fill in the details though. Julie simply decided that getting blind staggering drunk at home was more attractive than going to work, and then she stayed that way for the next 3 days. Apparently this is not uncommon.

However, now that Julie has lost her gold star of approval, it's open season. If there's one thing I can't resist, it's pushing people's buttons. I've already got her replacement in place, so there's no reason to play nice. She's only wanting 2 days a week anyway, and her replacement wants the full week so I lose nothing by running her off. She's in tomorrow, and I can hardly wait.

Let the games begin.

Why not just hire a crack whore?

While Julie was drunk in an alley somewhere, my boss called to tell me he'd be by later to "discuss some ideas" with me regarding a replacement. My boss is notorious for hiring the worst of the worst, so the idea that he wanted to talk about one in particular could only mean it was SO bad that even he thought it might be a bad move.

I suspected he was going to suggest Carol, who was currently on a different schedule but had worked Julie's spot before. As far as I was concerned, that wasn't going to happen. Carol has been hired and fired from just about every business for 20 miles around, and for good reason. She was one of those "team leader" sorts, who liked to stand on the side and order everyone else around. To hear her bitch and moan two days later, you'd think she was the one doing all the work while the rest of those slackers just sat on their asses and drank chai lattes.

A month earlier I came in to discover Carol's tweaker husband Dawson and his sister hanging around out back. They wandered over to the dumpster when I pulled in, because you know, who doesn't want to hang around a reeking trash can? Once inside, I found the back door left unlocked, and a side window wide fucking open. WTF would that window be open when it was 34 F outside?

We've been robbed once before by an employee, and it looked pretty obvious to me that Carol was thinking maybe she could do it too. She'd been trying to figure out how to score some cash so she and her crackhead hump could go to Jamaica this summer, and apparently she figured it out.

I had told my boss about it at the time, but in his usual clueless stupor, he just said he'd "remind them all" to be careful about leaving doors and windows open. Feh. Fucker deserves to be robbed.

Since then Carol had been particularly friendly to me, which I knew better than to buy into because we never got along when she worked under me before. In response, I busted her chops every time I came into a mess she left behind. Stuff I'd normally take care of and say nothing about, I was pitching bitch fits over. Fuck her, right? And now I was sure my boss was going to try to sweet talk me into taking her back on my crew. When he finally came through the door, I was ready and waiting to shoot down that idea with both barrels.

"I think Dawson would be good at this, and he needs a job. What do you think?"

To my credit I did not say "I think you are a fucking moron and deserve to be robbed nine ways from Sunday. Sure let's put that meth cooking theif on the clock. Fuck, give him a key too while you're at it. Then, I'll go home and leave him alone up here so he can rob you blind"

Instead I said "NO WAY", which was immediately counted by "But why not?" Oh let me list the reasons you gullible twat. He's on meth. He cooks meth. He sells meth. Fuck his whole family is on the shit. We already have issues with people thinking we're a fucking drug front because you keep hiring every sob story and crack whore in the county, but hey why not add one more? Just to round out the shifts I mean.

Hat in hand, my boss sadly left, his great idea torn to shreds. Thankfully one of my crew knew someone for the job, and now I have a very sweet guy who is hitting on all 8 cylinders for the spot.

Apparently someone clued Carol in to why her crack monkey didn't get the job, and now she won't speak to me, heh. She's even trying to get me in trouble, complaining that I "get in her way" when I come in early for my shift. This amuses me to no end. I think, you stupid fucking cunt. First off you're disposable, so don't even think you have any power to fuck with me. Secondly, there's no way in hell I'd let your crack monkey on my crew and I'll come in early EVERY fucking day I know you're on, just to make sure you don't "forget" to shut the window again. I'll inspect every trash can to make sure you emptied it, check the locks on all the doors, and make sure you didn't leave a mess on the floor. And when you sit there and toss glare after glare my way, I'm going to send you a great big smile, because it amuses the living shit out of me to piss you off. There's nothing you can do to make me even half as angry as you're getting because I place more value in the emotions of shit throwing chimpanzees than I do in you.

Now go clean the toilet.

Why do today what you can put off for a month?

I have a customer who has been with me for many years, so many that I know when he will need a job done before he ever says anything. With this in mind, I drop him a line and say hey, will you be needing this soon? Of course he does, and the deadline is several weeks away, so there's plenty of time.

One week to deadline, I remind him to send me the materials to get his brochures drawn up. Of course of course, will get them off tomorrow.

One day to deadline, I am still tapping my fucking foot. Generally he gets me the shit for his fliers and brochures about 12 hours before they're due at the printer. This really pisses me off to no end.

Last month he waited until 2 hours before deadline to get me the materials, and 90 days after due date to get me payment.

Next deadline is the 19th. I'm tacking a fucking $75 emergency charge to this bill and by god I'm going to start adding late fees. I am tired of this shit. Why do I have to hold these bastards hands? They're adults for christs sake. Do they want me to come to their home and pat them on the back while they get their shit together? But don't you know he'd bitch a blue streak if I couldn't get this done by deadline. If it were not for the egotistical pride I have in being able to design this shit at the drop of a hat, I'd miss a deadline and then invite him to ream my ass for not getting his copy to print on time. He'd be missing a cheek after I got done with him.

I thought I quit babysitting when I was 12.

Needy clingy fucks are not Nice

I fucking hate guys who describe themselves as "Nice Guy". Whenever I see that, I know that what he really means is he is needy and clingy and will drive me up the fucking wall, and then when I finally try to peel him off my leg, he'll cry and say "girls only want ASSHOLES, not nice guys!"

I've got a clue by 4 for all the self professed Nice Guy™ types.

If you have to TELL me you're nice, you're not.

I don't want a nice guy dammit. I want a GOOD guy. I don't want the guy who is desperately seeking his soul mate, I want the one who is happy with his life and has his own interests, but would be interested in meeting someone fun to see what happens next. I want the guy who is supportive of my hobbies without trying to become fully involved, and who appreciates the fact that I don't want to be 100% involved in every little thing he does either.

Without fail, every Nice Guy™ I've gone out with has been a pain in the ass.

Nice Guy™ "Please come over tonight"
Star "I can't, I've got explosive diarrhea and can't stop puking"
Nice Guy™ "But I NEED you I want to BE with you PLEASE come!"
Star "Did you hear me? I'm spraying out both ends. I'm sick"
Nice Guy™ "Don't you want to be with me? I love you! Ok I'll come over"
Star "No I'm sick and I don't want company now and we just met 2 days ago anyway"
Nice Guy™ "But WHYYYYYY NOOOOOOT??"
Star "Fuck off"

for the record, I'm dating a Good Guy now, and he's fuckin awesome

Snap your neck like a chicken I could

We relocated just in time for me to begin 6th grade in a very wealthy suburb and in a school filled with the spoilt spawn of the nuevo riche. To make matters worse, my parents did not believe in fashion, nor did they understand that appearance can make or break you in the social circles. I showed up to school dressed in my brother's handmedowns, during an era where if it weren't Polo, Klein, or Members Only, well you just weren't fit to live. The resident popular kids quickly made it their mission in life to teach me that particular rule of life. I'll spare you the boring details, but they could teach a trick or two to the military in terms of utterly destroying the enemy without laying a finger on them.

My mother always taught me to turn the other cheek when people were mean to me. I tried that for a few years but the truth is that children don't recognize forgiveness as anything more than a sign of weakness. Ignore the bully, and he'll start to smell the blood and circle in for the kill. My parents were useless. Mom insisted I was making it up, or overreacting. I couldn't expect any help from my dad. If he wasn't beating the shit out of me for some imagined infraction, he was nowhere to be found.

I spent much of my 7th grade year hiding in the bathroom hoping no one would find me, or else racing up and down the stairs to work up a sweat and appear flushed, so that I could convince the school nurse I was sick and get sent home. Every day it was more of the same, endless humiliation and abuse heaped on me from the popular girls. The boys were mean too but girls particularly revel in destroying those at the bottom. I couldn't do anything, say anything, wear anything, without them gleefully ripping it to pieces, reminding me at every opportunity that I was stupid, ugly, fat, worthless, and why didn't I just kill myself already? I'd be doing my parents a favor after all.

I still remember your names too bitches. Don't think you're off the hook yet.

In 8th grade, I decided this turning the other cheek thing was bullshit. I didn't see how detention or even suspension could be any worse than what these hags were putting me through. This realization came to me while standing in line waiting for the bell to let us out of class. I felt something hit me in the butt, and heard the girls behind me giggling. I tried to ignore it, but it happened several more times. They were literally kicking me in the ass. I was chewing my lip to hamburger trying to stay calm about it, but I knew that once I got out of that room, the tables were about to turn.

I wasn't really a fat kid but I was bigger than the other girls. I rode my bike all the time and my thighs were muscled up pretty heavy. At 5'2" and 125 I could bench 100 pounds easily. Basically I was the Fresian in a stable full of Arabians. I'd long suspected I could take them all out with one punch but until that point hadn't had the guts to find out. As the bell rang, I sucked up my balls and got ready to find out.

As soon as I cleared the corner, I spun around and reached out for the first throat I could catch. It belonged to Amy, a stick thin cheerleader who, although far from the ringleader, was certainly high up in the ranks. With one hand I picked her up by her neck and slammed her into the lockers, and then held her there, studying her terrified face coldly. Options ran through my mind as the other girls started squealing and a crowd began to gather. I knew I could beat the shit out of her easily. I wondered how cute a broken nose would go with her pom poms. As I relished these visions, a darker truth sunk in. No matter how badly I beat the little bitch, no one would say, oh she had it coming. No, they'd all turn on me as some psychotic bitch. The school would point it's accusing finger at me, as if I had attacked unprovoked. No one would believe that pretty, popular Amy had done anything to deserve the pitch I was about to swing. My parents would tell me I overreacted, that 3 years of torment did not justify my shaking the little bitch like a rag doll. They'd have me sent to a psychiatric ward and medicated, claiming I was a "problem child".

I leaned in close to Amy's face, listening to the gasps as she tried to breathe through my squeezing hand, her feet still dangling off the ground. Softly, so no one else could hear, I whispered in her ear "I could snap your neck like a chicken you hateful bitch. Think about that next time you think about making fun of me." Then I dropped her to the ground and walked away.

Amy never made fun of me again. When her friends would start up their shit, she would back away. I always assumed she told them what I said, because if I made a move towards them, they would always reconsider and head off in another direction.

That taught me a valuable lesson. Predators don't care if you forgive them, or show them kindness. Either grow a spine or go home. Word spread fast that Star wasn't going to tolerate shit any longer, and the girls went off to find weaker targets for their constant bullying. When I moved up to 9th grade and a different school, the abuse was pretty much over.

And this is my boomstick

Many years ago I dated a cop who introduced me to the joys of firepower. Back then my house was an arsenal of handguns, rifles, and shotguns. After we parted ways, however, I started to lose interest and most of the weaponry wound up getting sold.

Except for my 12 gauge.

I took it out today and blew the shit out of some 2x10s. That 00 buck obliterated the boards and the noise, ack. I'm still deaf.

My dogs and neighbors are not amused.

I don't have cable

Or satellite. I don't even have an antenna. Truth is, I shut my TV off 2 years ago and haven't really missed it. It seemed that when it was on, all I did was veg out in front of it watching Law & Order reruns, endless episodes of CSI, or else binged on Food Network and HGTV. My house was a wreck. I never went anywhere or did anything interesting. I just watched TV.

When people ask me, did you see X last night, they are rendered speechless when I tell them, I don't have TV. Oh I have A TV, a nice 32" one I bought 5 years ago. I have a DVD player too, because I still like to watch movies. But regular TV? 183 channels and not a fucking thing on far as I'm concerned.

Why can't I just get the shows I want? Fucking companies want me to get a bundle of shit I will never watch, like 32 Home Shopping Networks and CMT. In a perfect world, the only world that could convince me to shell out $40 a month to watch TV, I could put my OWN bundle together. I'd have Discovery, Sci Fi, HGTV, Food Network, USA Network, and National Geographic.

So no you mindless fucks, I didn't see who got kicked off of Idol or who fell on their ass on Dancing with the Stars. I don't care about your stupid soaps and I damn sure do not want to see some girl choke down a fucking cave spider. Maybe instead of hovering by the tube waiting for the next episode of Wife Swap to come on, you should take your fat assed kids outside and go explore the world a little. Go to the lake with your friends and catch some rays. Read a fucking book once in a while.

No one lays on their deathbed and wishes they'd seen more TV.