Archive | June, 2012

The Episode Where She Leaves Him

30 Jun

image

You know how married people fight? 

…I mean the “epic” fighters…the real vocal-chord-shredding type.  I mean, like the Taylor and Burton kind of epicness?  Well, that has become the basic “norm” in the office in the past two months. 

…Boss sails in and dumps a bunch of shit on the two of us running the place, then books it to the nearest Happy Hour.  Even finding some that begin as early as 9:30 a.m. (Or so we are told.)  Basically, he has the manners of a dog…walks right up to your lawn, takes a GIANT dump on the clean carpet of green, and promptly leaves it for you to step in, then pick up, later.

…Also, he’s been yelling a lot. About everything.

“WHY DIDN’T YOU KNOW I NEEDED THIS WITHOUT TELLING YOU?! CAN YOU NOT READ MY MIND?!  WHERE IS THAT PAPER I HAD IN MY HAND TWO DAYS AGO WITH THE THINGY ON IT?!  WHERE IS THE TRUCK OF STOCK I FORGOT TO ORDER?! DOES NO ONE UNDERSTAND MY CHICKEN SCRATCH WRITING?! YOU SHOULD HAVE KNOWN THAT WAS AN AUTOCORRECT AND WRONG! WHO STOLE MY STAPLER?!  WHY IS IT RAINING AGAIN?!  WHAT THE HELL IS YOUR PROBLEM WITH ME ALL OF A SUDDEN?! …I’M A VERY CHARMING INDIVIDUAL!! ASK ANYONE?!”

…Naturally, I yell back.

“WHY DO YOU ALWAYS DUMP SHIT AND JUST LEAVE?! HOW DOES FACEBOOKING FOR NINE HOURS CONSTITUTE ‘WORKING?!’  IF YOU DON’T ORDER THE STOCK, WE HAVE NOTHING TO SELL!  WHY AM I SPENDING THREE HOURS GETTING YOUR BONUS FOR YOU WHILE YOU DRINK JOHNNY WALKER ON ICE, DOWN THE STREET?  STOP CONTACTING ME AFTER HOURS! WHY ARE YOU BEING SUCH A GIANT DOUCHBAG?!”

We have an odd mechanic of a relationship, I know.

…Over the five years working with him, I have become so indispensable that I’ve been told to my face, even if I (say for giggles), decided to burn the place to the ground tomorrowhe would take the heat for it.  Because he knows very little (if anything) of what I actually do in a day.  All he knows is: it gets done.  All of the “it.”  The arrangement we have , goes something like: He never changes his ways, and after I reach a point where I cannot take it ANYMORE, I blow up at him, royally.  He takes it.  He leaves to find a bar.  I sit and keep doing paperwork. 

It’s not perfect, I grant you.  But it is our “system.”

…But the “system” has been cooking with extra steam since our last job contract came through, and now there is little, if any, reprise, ‘tween one fight and the next.  Our office marriage has become the most idyllic poster child for “divorce” that you have ever seen.  We just grip each other’s throats  and tear, on a nearly daily basis.

…Which is one of many reasons that I am now looking for a new place of employment.

…But, WHY the extra-oomph of hell at the office all of a sudden?

Among many reasons, a new one popped up, mid-yell over the phone yesterday.

***

He: …I MEAN, JUST MAKE IT FREAKING HAPPEN!  WHAT IS YOUR DAMN PROBLEM?!

Me: YOU!! YOU ARE MY DAMN PROBLEM!  I’M ALREADY ON MY FIFTH REPORT THAT YOU ARE SUPPOSED TO BE DOING RIGHT NOW.  I’VE ALREADY DROPPED EVERYTHING I’VE BEEN DOING TODAY TWICE TO GET THIS CRAP DONE.  PLUS, I WAS ON VACATION LAST WEEK, AND AM TRYING TO FIX ALL THE SHIT YOU SCREWED UP!

He: HEY, AT LEAST I TRIED!!

Me: THIS ISN’T GRAMMAR SCHOOL!  YOU DON’T GET POINTS FOR NOT KNOWING HOW TO DO YOUR JOB FIVE-YEARS-IN, BUT FINALLY DECIDING TO GIVE IT A “GO” ON A THURSDAY AT 3:35 PM!

He: WHAT IS YOUR PROBLEM?!  WHAT IS YOUR DEAL?! WHY CAN’T YOU JUST DO WHAT I’M ASKING YOU?!

Me: I AM!! OR HAVE YOU FORGOTTEN THE OTHER TWELVE THINGS YOU DUMPED ON ME ALREADY TODAY?

***

…Etc.

It has become the kind of volatile atmosphere that breeds heartburn and migraine headaches (Me). And flagrant morning-alcoholism (He).  And we don’t even have to be in the same building to achieve it. But even though the stress and contracts and numbers have been a HUGE contributing reason as to why we have been pushed to the kind of stress we currently boil in, all day every day…it has gotten considerably worse.

At first, I thought I was rubbing off on him. 

When I’m good n’ pissed, I can be quite a bitch.  It’s true.  I kinda own it.  But he was never a cusser in the average day-to-day…and he yelled very little.  Now, he’s like a hydrogen bomb.  Which means, naturally, so am I.  So there we go, day in, day out, exploding like beach hits at Normandy…

***

He: …WELL, NOW I WANT YOU TO DO THIS ‘OTHER’ OTHER THING. SO DROP WHAT YOU’RE DOING AND MAKE IT HAPPEN!

Me: LOOK, I’M ALREADY DOING THIS REPORT THAT I HAVE TO SEND TO YOU BY FOUR…SO YOU CAN WRITE YOUR NAME ON IT LIKE A HIGH SCHOOLER, AND TURN IT INTO THE TEACHER.  I DON’T HAVE TIME TO DO BOTH!

He:  SO WHAT AM I SUPPOSED TO DO NOW THEN, HUH?!  I NEED THIS THING!

Me: THEN I SUGGEST YOU PAY THE BAR TAB , GO FIND A PLACE WITH WIRELESS, AND DO IT YOURSELF! JUST THIS ONCE.  YOU’LL SURVIVE. I PROMISE YOU.

He: LOOK, I CAN’T HANDLE THIS!  I CAN’T HANDLE THIS! WHY DON’T YOU JUST DO WHAT I’M TELLING YOU?!

Me: I  AM!!!!!  I DON’T JUST SHIT REPORT ANALYSIS!  IT REQUIRES FIGURING OUT.  WHICH IS ACTUALLY YOUR JOB.  THIS IS MY FIFTH ONE I’VE DONE FOR YOU TODAY!  I’M ONE PERSON!!! ONE PERSON!

He: YEAH, WELL?!  WE ALL HAVE “PROBLEMS,” DON’T WE?!  I “NEED” THIS THING AND “DON’T HAVE IT.”  YOU HAVE THINGS I DON’T NEED, BUT WON’T GIVE ‘EM TO ME…!

Me: WHAT?! YOU’RE NOT EVEN MAKING SENSE NOW!

He: — YEAH, WE AAAAALLLLL HAVE “PROBLEMS,” !  EXCEPT SOME PEOPLE.  THEY HAVE EVEN BIGGER ONES…!!!

Me: –WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU TALKING ABOUT…??!!

He: — OH GEE, YOU HAVE TOO MANY REPORTS TO DO…OH GEE, I’M BEING AN ASSHOLE TO YOU…WELL, AT LEAST YOUR WIFE DIDN’T JUST LEAVE YOU!

Me: — I DON’T HAVE A WIFE!  

He: — YEAH WELL, I JUST FOUND OUT: SHE DOES

(Beat of total silence.)

He: THAT’S RIGHT!! SHE LEFT ME!  FOR A WOMAN!  AND DON’T GO TELLING ANYONE! CUZ I DIDN’T MEAN TO SAY IT OUT LOUD!  AND NOW IT ACTUALLY FEELS EVEN WORSE!! SO SHUT UP ABOUT IT! AND WHEN THE HELL WILL THAT OTHER REPORT GET DONE, ANYWAY?!?!?

(The line falls to death on both ends.)

Me: I’m starting it now.

He: WELL, ALRIGHT THEN!

***

It’s probably the only fight in History that I have ever “thrown.”  Willingly. On purpose.  And immediately.  I figured, just this once, maybe it wasn’t essential that I “win.”

I feel it was the right choice. 

…Course, ask me again on Monday and it’ll prob’ly be an entirely different story.

~D

Advertisements

From The Bunny Ranch

29 Jun

image

Welcome new readers!  I have some.  Already!  And as-such, seems we’ll have to do a bit of last-season-wrap-up to get them into the swing of things.  So here goes, the condensing of the multi-episodic soap opera that was my previous blog.

Firstly: I will irritate you with purposely incorrect grammar, punctuation and completely made up words.  Like it or lump it.

Second: I will never disclose a single person’s actual identity, about whom I am writing.  Unless they are famous.  Then I’ll name-drop that shit till the cows come home.  You may certainly make guesses as to their ID, but keep it (and mine, if you know it) to your damn self. Mmkay?

Third:  I have two jobs.  It may get confusing to follow the drama if you aren’t made aware of that.  The first one is my “career.”‘  I am an Actor.  A theatre one. I do it often and all over, and even get paid, so can legally write things like movies and books off my taxes every year.  This is very important, because those two things are the crack-cocaine of my very existence.  So, I will, coincidentally, be writing a lot about them, too. 

…The second job is the job I have to have, to actually pay the bills.  This time, I’m not even going to name-drop the true profession.  Instead, I will liken it to working in a cheap Brothel…which totally translates, if you happen to know what it is I really do. 

I don’t get paid well for it.

I work like a dog at it.

The Boss makes his living because I do all the work for him

It’s populated with other-whores, only they work as independent contractors, for which I personally serve as Pimp.

…And not a day goes by wherein I don’t feel screwed raw and left for dead.

….”So get a new second job!” you might be saying.

The short answer to that is: I’m trying.  The long one is: Meanwhile, I can afford to be picky, cuz at least I already have a job.  And why “settle” again, when I don’t have to?

Fourth: I try my best to be “entertaining” in voicing my frustrations.  Dark comedy has made others into millionaires.  For me, it just makes having to reach for the Xanax bottle a less-frequent occurrence. But first and foremost, this is my “out”… my “haven”…my land of Oz. So sometimes, it won’t be “entertaining.”  Sometimes that shit might bum you out or make you say, “Hmmm…” with a thinky face of serious reflection…or fire you up to want to call me out on the street and exchange in some fisticuffs.  I totally understand this.  So you should too.

Fifth: There is no “fifth,” but I’m anal retentive and having an incomplete set of count-offs is like someone going into my cupboards and turning all the labels around.  Just wrong.

Consider yourself caught-up.

…Now onto the new season…

~D
…  

The New Den Of Iniquity

29 Jun

image

A new chapter and a new blog.

…After three years I was hacked out of my carefully protected undercover pseudonym…not a happy moment of realization, I assure you.  But worry not, little bunnies, no personal repercussions arose from it, only private ones.  It was suggested by certain people to say, “fuck it, let ’em revel in the shit, joke’s on them.”  Only this is my haven, writing out all the dirty little details.  Always has been.  Regardless of whether certain people relish in the fact they are stars of many a frequent episode, or not…I don’t want them to have access to my private life, any more than I did before.

…Which brings us to two things: 1) Limit my audience, or 2) Pick up sticks and move to a new town.

Guess which one I picked.

…So here I am, back in witness protection, writing from what I hope will be a fantastic home for years to come.  Welcome to the new (and possibly improved) brothel, kids! I’ve cleaned it up and all, but it’ll take a while to get all the rooms themed and situated in such a way as we have all become accustomed. Till then, please join me in popping open your favorite bottle of whatever is on the bar, and raise it up in a toast…

To: The New Den of Iniquity.  May it outlive the last.

Thanks for readin’, loves.

~D

%d bloggers like this: