I work in retail. My store is very popular with the film industry. I swear these film guys are the most entitled, whiniest, ego centric people i have ever met. This guy storms into our shop today, barks his order at me and continues to talk loudly on his phone. Unfortunately, what he wanted was not in stock but we had more in the back. Problem is I dont have the key and the boss is not in. Film guy starts going off about how much money they spend and how the boss should come in right away to serve him. I apologize and tell him he will have to wait till tmrw. He flipped his lid and starts cursing and whining about how its so important and it cant wait. He also threatened to tell my boss i was unhelpful and rude LOL. We have cameras dude, and besides my boss knows i would never be rude to anyone, even an asshole film guy.
The thing is, if he was nice i would have tried calling the boss. But im tired of accommodating these idiots. Im not impressed with your Hallmark movie of the week bro. Go flex somewhere else.
One of the worst things about having a chronic illness is knowing that your condition makes you unreliable at times. I hate being that person who lets other people down because I’ve had to cancel plans. It’s one of the reasons I tend to isolate myself, because I can feel their annoyance and frustration with me. I don’t blame them because I’m annoyed and frustrated too. So I feel like I shouldn’t even bother trying to make new friends, because I know that sooner or later they’re going to dump me because of it.
I’m a 28 yo female, have never been in a relationship, and don’t have that many friends. I feel so free and spend my days off doing whatever I want. Shopping for anything, eating at restaurants, attending shows etc. It’s really fun yet too bad because the guy I really like is unavailable. It’d be nice to be able to go with someone to all these things. I’ll probably end up with him in 20 years after we marry and divorce other people. Am I terrible for hoping this will happen? Lots of sad things happened in my life this year so my main priority for now is taking care of my mom and responsibilities. In the future I’m sure I’ll meet the one.
It’s not an immediate one so no one would think to consider it a crisis. It’s more of a “once this thing happens I’ll do it” kind of plan. I have no desire to hurt anyone. In fact I love them all too much which is why the pain is so intense. There’s just nothing left to stay for and I know that it’s never going to change. This pain isn’t one I’m willing to live with. I’ve been around long enough to know how it goes. It gets better for a while but then it starts up again and I’m the target. I just can’t take it anymore. There’s nowhere to go that I can escape to. I can’t turn myself into someone else just to satisfy them. Nothing I do is ever going to be good enough. I’m not being dramatic either because it’s right there in the words they write to me. I’m not imagining it. When the only reason you have for getting up every day hates you or doesn’t care if you live or die then I just don’t see the point anymore. So that’s my confession. As soon as that one thing happens, I’m outta here.
I joined one of those neighbourhood buy-nothing FB groups that has generally been really good. But there’s one guy on there who is so overwhelmingly irritating that I’ve left the group because of his posts alone. He’s just such a colossal moron and I wasn’t able to stop seeing his posts or stop him from commenting on mine. Every time I saw his name come up I would physically shudder.
Icing my sore neck and shoulders. It happens every time she wants uppies but my granddaughter is so darn cute I do it for her every time and end up throwing out my back!! Oh to be young again!!
I like wierd foods. I'm curious to try things like deep fried meal worms and rocky mountain oysters. Bring it on.
I confess that on the occasion I either pick up, or someone gives me an art catalogue, I don't actually read the text/essays in it. Instead, I just flip through the pictures and then stuff it somewhere on one of my bookshelves. Art language/writing is - for the most art, and at least to me anyways - nothing more than inaccessible and posh (in the arrogant sense) drivel. I love and appreciate art; but, the crap critics and curators are prone to pennig at best can put you to sleep, and at worse exorcize demons - I swear. I do not think I am lone in thinking this way either. One needs either to smoke a tonne of crack or guzzle a bottle of throat and brain-burning Icelandic potato vodka before taking a crack at understanding some of that stuff.
When I first moved to Vancouver, I went to a job interview but couldn't find the place. I did find a dog and took it home. The dog showed signs of being abused. I never tried to find it's owner and kept the dog.
Speaking a new language is challenging. Even harder when I’ve never heard it spoken around me before. I read the books that talk about the language and I hear people talk About it, but no one really speaks it. Even when I do come across concrete vocabulary it’s hard to remember the words, phrases and let alone when and how to say them. I want to be heard, understood, and acknowledged. I hear it’s best to be immersed to truly make progress with it. But where does a person go to learn how to speak with boundaries?