The truth of what REALLY happened on that cruise. (Warning: STRONG language. I mean, strong.)

This post was originally written in late February of 2013.  I have not altered the original post in any way, shape or form; this is exactly how I was feeling at the time.  I will only say that these are the words of a scared, frightened, stressed-out woman that had no idea of what was going to happen.

The only reason that you are reading this right now is because the legal case has been dropped, or settled.  You will now understand what stress and horror I have been living under for the last three months.  I was ordered not to discuss this, for fear it would jeopardize the case - but now it's over.  And now I'm going to scream it to the skies.

Grab some popcorn.  You're about to take a ride on the crazy train.

By the way?  The case was judged as nolle prosequi - which means that "the plaintiff has dropped the charges".  Well, well.  Maybe because you're a lying douche that never had a leg to stand on, huh?

~~

It's been more than a couple of weeks since our aborted vacation; you know, the cruise to Jamaica that we were supposed to go on.  I've been putting off explaining what happened, partially because of shame (though why, I do not know!) and partially because I was afraid that a legal case would be jeopardized because I discussed it on Facebook.  More details about that are below.

The short story is that Greg was arrested, on-board the ship, by the Broward County, Florida Police Department AND by the United States Border Patrol.  He was arrested for, and I quote, "battery and tampering with a victim/witness".  Apparently there was a warrant out for his arrest that was dated from September of 2011.  In that warrant, it was stated that "Mr. Osman has violent tendencies". 

Wha-wha-wha-WHAT???  Fucking WHAT??????

Now, if you guess that it has to do with the crazy-assed bitch of an ex-girlfriend that he literally escaped from in Florida... you would win the new car and a year's supply of Rice-a-Roni.

This fucking cunt - and yes, I say the word cunt, I do not use this term EVER, but that's exactly what she is, so that's what I'm going to say - actually put out a warrant on Greg for supposedly abusing her.  Uhhuh.  That's why he had visible bruises on his body when he fled to my house in June of 2011.  Sure, bitch.  He abused you.  Get... fucking... REAL.

Greg was a victim of domestic violence in that relationship.  When he arrived in Baltimore, he and I actually went to the House of Ruth to try and get him to be seen by a counselor.  That's how much "he abused her".  She broke his glasses - and I do mean shattered them.  But HE "abused her".  Right, got it.  He walked around here for months like a whipped dog because he was so fucking afraid that someone would hurt him - but "he abused her".  Right. 

And she actually dared to use the judicial system to put out a warrant for his arrest. 

The result was that Greg was arrested, in view of over 3,000 people, on the Liberty of the Seas on Monday, January 28, 2013.  Needless to say, I was absolutely hysterical.  We had no idea that there was a warrant out on him, because if we had known - we would have freaking taken care of it!  Also, think about this - if we had known there was a warrant out for his arrest, what makes these idiots think that we'd even come back to Florida to begin with?????  Do they think we're that fucking stupid?

He was unceremoniously hauled off of the ship in handcuffs.  I'm throwing clothes into suitcases, sobbing hysterically, not understanding anything of what's going on, what I need to do next, anything. 

Do you believe that they actually asked me if I wanted to stay on the cruise?  Say the fuck... what?  What makes these idiots think I'd just take off to Jamaica by myself while Greg's in handcuffs over false domestic violence charges?  Do they really think I'm going to just leave him in the Broward County Jail while I hightail it off to the fucking islands?  GET.... FUCKING....REAL.

So I get off of the ship, with those same 3,000 people watching me.  The ship is late taking off, you see, and we're the sole reason for that.  So, yeah, I was totally humiliated.  No doubt about it.

No thanks to the Broward County Police Department, I found a hotel to stay in.  Of course, it's 130 dollars a night, but I was so hysterical that I didn't care.  I'm in a city that I know nothing about (Fort Lauderdale), I'm stranded, my fiance's in jail and I don't even know what the fuck is happening.  So, let's see... we lost our cruise vacation for sure.  That's 800 dollars.  Plus the hotel, so that's another 130. 

Want to keep tabs with me?  It gets better.

I call my mother in absolute hysterics, who in turn calls my brother in absolute hysterics.  He calls me, not in hysterics but visibly rattled.  He dispenses advice - call a lawyer, stat.  Good idea, I think, so I start looking up lawyers.  I'm overwhelmed by the choices.  Call a few, no one answers, it's 9:00pm.  I pull up the website of the jail - I see Greg's booking picture.  He's got visible tears in his eyes.  I totally fucking lose my shit and sob, curled up, on the hotel floor.  What the fuck.  What... the... fuck.

I toss and turn all night.  Can't sleep.  Dry-eyed.  Can't eat anything - I throw up what little I can get down.  I take my blood sugar levels - it's 214.  Only 36 more points and I get to go to the hospital.  Yay.  Great vacation so far.

Dawn arrives.  I wait until the latest hour I think I can before I start calling lawyers again.  I reach one's legal secretary - I spill out my story.  I end up crying again, I can't help it.  She puts me through to the lawyer himself.  I repeat my story.  He agrees to take the case - it's 1,000 dollars for a retainer.  I call my mother, begging for help.  She agrees and pays the retainer for me.  He promises to get over to the courthouse, in the meantime, can I come down there?  I'm on my way.

Now we're up to 1,930 dollars.  Keep counting, boys and girls.

I take a cab to the office because I have no idea of where the fuck I am, and even if I did it wouldn't matter, because I still don't have my driver's license.  So that's another 20 bucks.  I get dropped off right in front of the courthouse - nice, everything's laid out nice and convenient.  Lawyers here, courthouse there, jail across the street.  Big business, I see.  I'm totally disgusted.

I enter the lawyer's office.  Small, plain, white walls, Latina secretary.  Greg's been granted bond.  2500 dollars.  Charges are felonies.  Wonderful.  I start panicking again.  The secretary tells me not to worry, hands me a card, and tells me to go down the street to the bail bond office.  I go over there, thanking Christ that I have a fair amount of cash on me - it was for the ship staff, to give them tips.  I guess they won't be getting it now. 

I enter the bail bond office.  Explained the situation.  I sit down and sign mountains of paperwork - agreeing that they could come after me for the full 2500 if he doesn't show for court, etc.  Names of family, relatives, acquaintances.  I once again feel the humiliation and the despair of the situation we're in.  I get handed papers, told to wait at the jail for his release, and bring him back to the bond office when he's out.  "It may be a couple of hours," they warn.  Great, what else do I have to do?  I fork over 250 dollars, the 10 percent required to get him out. 

So far we're up to 2200 dollars.  Not done yet.

I walk up to the Broward County Jail.  Huge, multifloor concrete building.  Forbidding looking men and women walking through a security line.  I stand there for 15 minutes, not knowing what to do - no one is paying any attention to me.  I get barked at.  "You!  Purse in locker, walk through!"  I take the key, walk through security, nothing goes off.  I try a feeble smile at the officer behind the desk - nothing.  To him, I'm a common criminal just like everyone else that's in here - supposedly.  It doesn't matter that I'm in law enforcement, working for a place a lot higher than the state of Florida.  Here, I'm a criminal. 

I sit down.  Some inane talk show is on.  It's 10:30am.  I wait and watch.  Someone comes in, kisses his girlfriend, walks behind a partition, walks out escorted by a guard and in cuffs.  Returning from a weekend out, probably.  Lots of soft muttered Spanish, guards coming in and out, bringing lunches.  The hours pass.  12:30, 1:30.  The girl from the bail bonds office comes in, ostensibly to deliver paperwork.  She tells me not to worry, that he'll be out today; they're most likely going through processing, it takes time.  I ignore her - they've got their money, I want to be left alone - and keep waiting.  2:00, 2:30.  The time ticks away.  I zone out, wishing that I was anywhere, anywhere but here.

Suddenly... he comes out of the sallyport.  I lose it.  I totally lose it.  I ran over to him and squeezed him as hard as I could, sobbing like a child, not caring what happens.  I know we stood there at least 10 minutes, if not longer.  To their credit, he didn't look the worse for wear....

Not that that's much credit.

We leave the jail and go back to the bail bond office for an appearance.  The guy hands him a bunch of papers to fill out.  Same thing I had to.  Then, a picture.  We finalize everything and go back to the lawyer's office. 

I sit down with the lawyer and ask him straight out what the worst is that can happen.  I get told 2 to 3 years of probation, no more than that - but it's such an insult when he did nothing!!!!!!  He said he'd try to get the charges down to misdemeanors, or thrown out altogether.  I nod numbly.  Asked him if we could go home.  He said yes.  Thank you, Christ - thank you.  He said that we didn't have to appear at the arraignment, he would get a waiver signed so that he could stay in Maryland until the trial, if there was one.  Thank you again, Christ - I will never doubt you exist after this.

How much is the final fee?  2500 dollars more.  1000 extra if the case goes to trial.  Fine, I say.  Let's do this.

Total cost so far:  4,700 dollars.  Plus 1,000 if there's a trial.

We end up being forced to stay in Florida one more night - it's now 5:25pm.  Too late to get a flight out.  That's another 130 dollars.  35 dollars extra to change the plane reservation to the next day - fine, let's do it.

Now the cost is 4,865 dollars.  With trial - 5,865 dollars.

And that, ladies and gentlemen, was our lovely Jamaican vacation.  We returned home on Wednesday, January 30th, with a nearly six thousand dollar bill for a legal case that should never have happened, and the possibility of a felony being on my fiance's record - all because of one scorned, abusive, crazy motherfucking bitch.  The same scorned, abusive, crazy motherfucking bitch that sent him countless messages over his cell phone, over Facebook, threatening him if he didn't come back, trying to sweet talk him back, then talking "dirty" (trying to use sex as a weapon, I guess, this thing knew no bounds), then threatening ME through Facebook, using her ex-husband to message him, etc.  We had to pay for a block on his number so that she couldn't contact him anymore - we had it instituted in July of 2011.  I had to change my phone number outright because she was calling it day and night threatening me.  When that didn't work, she tried to use my Facebook account to tell me to "watch my back".  I have blocked everyone on Facebook with the same name, whether they're her or not.  I have been living in a state of semi-fear since the day he moved here, because from what I understand, this crazy bitch has a gun.  And Fort Lauderdale is 2 hours away by plane and a mere 100 dollar fare.  How do I know what this stupid turkey-neck slut is going to do?

I have been trying my best to hold it together, for Greg's sake and for everyone else's.  But it's been absolute hell having no one to talk to - because I've had to keep this quiet.  I have had nightmares since January 28th.  I have eaten very little and slept even less.  My dreams are of sinking ships, jail visits, and death.  I can no longer think about taking a vacation anywhere that is further than 50 miles from home.  I jump at the sound of sirens; I feel sick when I see a police officer walking toward me. I jump when the phone rings because I think it's the lawyer or the bail bond office calling me to tell me that I've lost the bail bond because he didn't appear for court (and this has already happened once).  I am probably going to have to go back to therapy because I can't process.  This has been nothing short of traumatic for me.  I can't even tell you how many tears I've cried since that day.  I don't know.  It seems endless.

The only reason why you are reading this now is because it's finally over.  The case has been put to rest.  (Though right now, I don't know what that outcome will be.  It'll be revealed after this sentence - I'm prewriting this so I will never have to think about it again, ever.)

Now that you know the entire story, those of you who have disagreed with me about opposing the Violence Against Women Act (VAWA) now know why I oppose it; it is what happened to us that makes me believe this is not a good idea for anyone.  Those of you who know and have met Greg personally can attest to the fact that he is genuinely the sweetest, gentlest man alive - he wouldn't harm a soul.  I will never believe that he abused that woman - ever - not from what I know and not from what I've seen.  I have lived with him for the past 2 years, and I know - if he were abusive, I would know by now!

And that part about "violent tendencies".  Shit.  I have more fucking violent tendencies than he does, and anyone who knows us can also attest to that!!!

So... now what?  I don't know, honestly.  I don't blame Greg for any of this.  He was a victim of this woman.  He was abused shamefully, and it just seems that it's punishment on top of more punishment.  How can I be mad at him? 

And yet, I still suffer from this.  The utter humiliation of three thousand people watching me as I scurry off a cruise ship, the amount of money that we've had to spend to defend ourselves from someone who has little to no respect for the court system, the nightmares and fear that I feel. 

Where is my justice? 

I was told that it wasn't even worth trying to sue this woman for the money that we've had to put out defending these bogus charges.  Because (if Greg is telling it right, and I believe that he is) she has nothing anyway - she's a leech on the body society, she collects disability (of course!), she doesn't work, she's a fucking drug addict.  She'd be at home on Jerry Springer - pure trash. 

All that I can say is that Greg must've had one hell of a lapse in judgment at one time to be involved with a thing like this.  (And, yes - the word thing applies here.)

I can feel the tears again - it never stops.  It never ends.  Again... where is the justice? 

Well, situation normal. It's all fucked up. :p

This past week has been absolutely horrendous. In the course of just 7 days, I've been feeling like utter crap, I've gained 3 pounds (putting me nearly back to the start of the year - when is this shit ever going to get better, damn it?), I've been harassed at work (I hesitate to say sexual harassment, but in truth that's exactly what it falls under) and now face the possibility of making a formal complaint, my mortgage went up by 40 dollars a month, I've lost my state tax refund because of the escrow shortage, and my cat's been puking up hairballs all over the house. I don't know if she's sick - she doesn't seem to be - but I'm a little concerned.

Fuck. Could this week have been any worse?

What absolutely amazes me is that for the most part, I've held it together and not crumbled to pieces. I keep reminding myself that things could be, and have been, a lot worse. Still, I didn't appreciate everything raining down on my head all at once, you know?

I was supposed to clean this weekend, but after all of this bullshit, I've pretty much boiled it down to "fuck this, I'll do what I like", heh. I am so tired, and it just seems that every bit of human contact that I've had recently has been nothing but a source of irritation. Though maybe it's nothing except paranoia, I just get this overwhelming sense that everything is either going wrong or is about to.

I look around and I see all of these things that I either want to do or, worse, need to be done... and I can't seem to find any enthusiasm or will to do any of it. It's like, what's the point?

Even my therapy recently hasn't much helped this sense of impending doom.

Maybe I'm just going through a bad patch right now, I don't know, but I wish it would stop.

Okay, bitching over. :p /complaint

For once, contemplation about social issues...

I've been meaning to write a post about this topic for a while now, but as usual life got in the way. However, as of late, I've been growing a bit disgusted about the attitudes concerning this subject that have been floating around.... so, of course, you know I'm going to shoot off my big mouth about it. :p

That topic is infidelity and relationships. Stop laughing, I've been in my share of relationships and have some experience with this. :p

Warning: the backstory to this is long – but it's worth a read and it'll lead me up to my point eventually.

The backstory that got me to thinking about this subject is this: I've been a “lurker” on a few relationship boards for quite a few years now. It all started when I was living in Georgia and was having trouble getting out of the shack, so I found this forum called, appropriately, Loveshack. It seemed a pretty level-headed place where I could get advice from people that seemed, well, sane. (Loveshack, by the way, deals with everything from parental issues to infidelity to abuse – it's not strictly for the “lovelorn”, per se, at least it wasn't when I was there.) Anyway, I received solid advice about what to do with my situation, I thanked them, and sailed off into the sunset. (Turns out that the advice I got was correct – and of course, I didn't follow it, which makes me wonder why I bothered to ask.) Only, I decided to stay and just read other posts – sort of a learning experience.

They have a forum called “The Other Woman/Man” that used to be really lively (but respectful). Over time, I read something about different “other woman/man” forums that WEREN'T as, uh, nice. Basically, there was (or used to be) a board war between an “other woman” forum (warning: pop-up intensive, make sure your ad blockers are on) and a place that, in their description, “lampoons” the other woman. (If you don't know what that word means, think National Lampoon. You'll get the idea.) Anyhow, I wandered over to both places to check it out for myself – and they weren't kidding, either. There was some nasty stuff exchanged between both places, let me tell you. And as awful as it sounds, I enjoyed every bit of the sparring between the forums. As an outsider with zero stake in which place would “succeed”, it added a bit of a vicarious thrill to my days – here are two sets of people, both of whom should know better, arguing over ethics. On occasion, both sides brought up really good points to think about amidst all of the name-calling and mud-slinging.

(You're probably wondering when I'm going to get to the point. Patience, my child. It's coming.)

I started to read other forums dealing with relationships and infidelity as well, trying to learn for myself about the pain of all sides of the triangle (and there is pain for all three people, I think). There is one particular board for the “BW” (their abbreviation for “betrayed wife”) which is particularly heart-wrenching. And it's made me think over the years about my position on relationships, infidelity, and what I'd want out of such things.

I used to be really nonchalant about this sort of thing. I didn't consider that a relationship particularly meant that I had a rope tied to someone's testicles and all I had to do was give it a pull to “keep someone in line”. I'm really still not that way about things. I think that after all of this reading and thinking, my main objection is if someone lies about their intent – what they WANT to do. “I want to sleep with so-and-so.” Okay, why would you want to do that? Give me a good reason. If I think your reason's solid, go ahead, but you're going to hear how I feel about it first. No, I probably won't like it, but if you have a really good reason that would trump my objections, I wouldn't even attempt to stop you. That's pretty straightforward, I think, and it's something that most reasonable people wouldn't argue with.

I think that a lot of what upsets me about infidelity is this: first of all, I think that a lot of people have the entirely wrong idea about what marriage is supposed to be, to begin with. Over and over, I read on these forums....things like, “he's the love of my life”, “marriage isn't supposed to be like this”, “we used to be so happy”, etc. I can break that down pretty easily – what does one think marriage is “supposed” to be? Marriage isn't a blissful dreamy state where you can ignore the hard, cold facts of life – life sucks, darling. You have to work, pay bills, sacrifice time and energy. If you choose to have children, that's a HUGE block of time and energy that you now must give to another person, and if you don't think your partner's going to be okay with that, best to invest in some birth control, honey. Because I can tell you now – a LOT of people aren't okay with that. And the “we used to be so happy” stuff – how does one know that for sure unless they can read minds? If someone's stepping out on you outside of your relationship, it's pretty obvious they WEREN'T happy, isn't it? That's where communication comes in, and if two people sucked at that BEFORE marriage, it sure isn't going to improve later.

Another thing that I've read constantly on these forums is the aftermath – there's two paths that one could take, which is reconciliation (otherwise known as the mysterious “R” in this world, heh), and divorce. This probably makes me more angry than anything I've discussed so far, because there seems to be a constant pattern with either option. In “R”, the end goal seems to be making the spouse who cheated literally pay for it with the rest of his life – either the betrayed spouse's way, or the highway. Now, I can understand a little of that for a while – but not forever. And a lot of these people that I read about seem to want it just that way, forever. For example, there's often talk about “conditions of reconciliation”, i.e., “this is what you must do in order for me to reconcile with you”. Some things I've read are:

“One of the conditions of R was that he not look at porn...”
“He has to agree to complete transparency (Facebook, Myspace, social networking, computer, phone)..”
“He has to quit his job, as the other woman works there too...”
“I want a completely new bedroom set, I won't sleep on the same bed as the whore...”
“He has to show me that he loves me, say nice things all the time, offer to do for me...”

And etc., etc. Let me address these point by point, as I think that every single one of them is completely ridiculous.

The bit about not looking at porn? Honey, you are in a DREAM world if you think you can stop a man (or a woman, for that matter) looking at porn. First of all, we live in America, last I heard, and a consenting adult has the given right to view or read anything they want – being married to someone who disapproves isn't going to stop them from looking at it if they really want to. And if that's a condition to stay married is that my partner tells me what I can and can't watch? Bye-bye, see you in divorce court. You're supposed to be my partner, not my parent. That is controlling to the nth degree, and it's probably a good reason WHY your partner would cheat in the first place. You don't like porn, fine, find someone else that doesn't like it too, and you're good to go. But no one has the right to tell a person what they can and can't watch or read. I'd be willing to bet that if this person was suddenly told they couldn't watch Oprah or whatever crap show they watch because it's “objectionable” to their partner, they'd blow a gasket. And rightfully so.

Transparency? This one isn't as ridiculous, but it IS suspicious. Why would someone not be transparent with their partner from the very beginning? I have a friend of mine that just married her husband back in July or so, and they are very much in love, happy, expecting a baby. Yet they have separate Facebook accounts, and always have. Why? Because they trust one another. If a couple doesn't have trust in each other enough so that they can have their own bank accounts, their own social networking accounts, etc., what are they doing getting married in the first place?

Quitting their job? Good luck with that in this crap economy. If your partner quits their job, you and the kids that you put ahead of your partner won't have much on the table to eat. Might want to think about that before you let the paranoia take over. I can understand being scared that your partner would take up with the other woman at work again, but if they're truly sorry about what they've done, they won't. You can't make someone be remorseful – they either are or they're not.

And buying the new bedroom, the new truck, the new whatever... that's just plain selfish on your part and quite frankly, I even see it as gold-digging in some respects. Okay, I understand bad memories being associated with a car, a piece of furniture, etc. But that's when you take that object and you make NEW memories associated with it – that's how you get over trauma. They say that if you get thrown off of a horse, the only way to conquer that fear is to get right back on him and try again. Same here. Paint the bedroom walls, screw your partner's brains out on that bed, have the truck detailed with new upholstery and features, etc. But don't just get rid of things because someone “sat” on it. I mean, seriously. When you get on a public bus, how do you know that all of your partners' ex-girlfriends sat on the same seat you're in that very moment? It's ridiculous. Again, controlling to the nth degree.

Showing someone that they love them? How do I even combat this ridiculous statement? No one can be “on” all the time, for one thing. Everyone has moments in their lives where, let's face it, they're just not very lovable, or even personable. I'm thinking that if someone didn't love a person, they wouldn't even stay in the relationship, or consider it – at least that's how I work, anyway, I don't know about other people. There are going to be times where I'm not going to feel like rubbing someone's back or doing the dishes or whatever ridiculous requirement would be expected as a “condition” of reconciliation.

And that's what really frosts my ass about this whole thing – all of these, in one way or another, are CONDITIONS for staying with the person that cheated. If they slip up in any way, shape or form, the betrayed person would yell, “You don't love me! You're cheating on me again! I'm going to leave you! You're a beast, a brute, you're hateful!” Yadda, yadda, yadda!

Jesus, I think I'd RATHER they left than be in a relationship with an axe hovering over my neck. Because that's what this would feel like, to me.

Now, understand – I'm NOT “for” cheating. I'm not at all supportive of people who step out on their partners (assuming that this wasn't okay to begin with – if two people in a relationship want an open thing, that's their business and I'm all for it). If a husband and wife choose NOT to have an open marriage, in my opinion they should both follow that decision. But, if it DOES happen, they both need to sit down and figure out what is going wrong – and it usually happens LONG before the affair does. Communication is the key to everything, after all. If two people sit down and communicate about how they feel, being completely honest about everything – I don't even see infidelity being a possibility. The problem is that people get together, and stay together, for the wrong reasons.

This is why I'm not planning on getting into another relationship until I know for SURE that it's for the right reasons, that it's the right time, and that the person I meet will have the qualities that I need and want. If that means that I will never be in another relationship, then that's the way it will be. I absolutely will not compromise on this, as I've been in too many relationships that have ended horrifically, for all of the reasons that I've outlined above. I've learned that I can get along just fine on my own!

I have more thoughts on this subject, but it's already become too long and unwieldy of a post, so I'll conclude here. But I'd love to hear other peoples' thoughts about this. Am I the only one that feels this way?

A mish-mash of jumbled thoughts all wrapped into one pretty package.

I've been snowed in over here for the last week. Haven't had to work or deal with drug addicts or urine for nearly 7 days now. However, during the course of this massive storm, I've had to check every day for the operating status of the gubmint - there's a special website we go to in order to know whether we're open or closed - and in the course of reading several federal-related blogs, I've come across sentiments like these below:

"Those of us who work for a living are honored to support your lazy butt staying in bed...it isn't as if you woulda done anything had you been there!

Yep, what we need is bigger Government!"

(Taken from The Federal Eye, 2/10/09)

Or...

"The federal workers who had a day off today should have been required to shovel snow."

Or this little gem here...

"The Federal Government -- great "work" (and I'm using that term very loosely-- if you can get it. For us poor schmucks out in the occupied provinces who have to pick up the tab, it's not so good."

Okay. This is all I've got to say about this bullshit above -

1.) I'd telework if I could do so, but it's a little difficult taking urine over the Internet. If anyone's got a way to do this, bring it on and let me know, because I'd have rather worked than spent this entire week snowbound at home. It's not like I could get out of my house, anyway.

2.) The Washington Metro subway isn't running. Neither are the MARC trains. What do people expect me to do, walk from Baltimore? It's not happening. I can't even get down to Calvert Street, never mind D.C. If the public transportation doesn't run, neither do I. You tell me what to do, should I hang on to the back of a fucking snowplow?

3.) If you had to work all this week in a snowstorm, blame your employer - not me. I don't set your hours. If it were up to me, I'd let everyone have a free week off, pay you, the whole deal. This wasn't a vacation for me. I spent 3 out of the last 7 days going stir fucking crazy in this house - I know I've had at least one depressive attack, if not more. So as far as I'm concerned, those who are complaining can shove it up their asses.

This has been the biggest snowstorm.. well, ever. This is unprecedented. We here in Baltimore/D.C. are not used to this bullshit, this isn't Minnesota. People should not expect us to know what to do in a situation like this, because it's never happened. We just have no clue about how to cope.

In other news... I'm upset about my checking account. Some company on the Internet decided to pluck my debit card number out of thin air and run 320 dollars' worth of charges on my account. That was pretty much my entire paycheck for the next 2 weeks, so I'm needless to say furious. I've disputed the charges, of course, but since this is my checking account, I literally have no money until the next payday. In some ways, I'm lucky that I didn't have to work this week, because I'd be in serious trouble if I had. My debit card is my lifeline, literally, and the fact that I had to cancel it, that is also a source of fury. I knew that number backward and forward to the point where I didn't even need the actual card itself. Now I have to memorize a whole new number - good luck with that.

I'm working it out, but in the meantime I'm fucked. I will say one thing - do not, do not, do not do any business with a place called Digital River - they're somewhere in the wilds of fucking Minnesota. Apparently they handle some antivirus shit. I don't need such services, so I know damned well these charges are unfuckingauthorized. But I'll get it taken care of. I've reported them to the BBB, too. Let's see how they enjoy that little piece of news.

I did, however, pay off a good chunk of my debts this week. I'm not sure of how much credit-to-debit ratio I have now, but I know it's under 40%. That's good. That's VERY good.

Anyway, hopefully they'll clear these streets up soon so I can get out of here for a while. I don't really want to go back to work, but if they do call open tomorrow, it'll be okay - it's Friday. Won't be much going on.

No word on the crim grades yet. Doing well in the math course, surprisingly. And the IFSM is disgustingly easy. So far.

Okay, that's it for now. Nothing else doing.

Uhhh....

....I've seen a lot of stupid infomercials in my time, but this has got to take the cake. What kind of market do these people think this product will attract???

Best line: "It feels great on my abs." It sure sounds like he's saying 'ass', though, doesn't it.

I can just picture myself now in one of those damned things. Labels and urine cups flying everywhere, heh.



I am speechless.

Nothing much doing.

It seems that the Luvox has removed all sense of drama and/or stress from my life, as I've really not been anxious about too much of anything. The social life hasn't much improved, but then again I'm not really trying too hard as of late. I am more willing to get out and do things, so if that's what it's meant to do, I'm happy for that. I was shocked to see that the medicine (this one alone) is seventy dollars. At this rate, I think I'd rather be a fucked-up hermit than pay those prices. God, it's expensive to be sick.

It's been a quiet weekend. I'm off tomorrow for Columbus Day, not that I care much about the holiday or anything, but it's nice to relax. I got my paper in on time and I think I rather did well on it, but I won't know for sure until the instructor gets around to grading it. I have a feeling she's going to be a hardass about grammar and APA and... bleh. I did my best, that's all I can do.

I bought an external hard drive over the weekend and have been having absolute fun with backing up all of my music onto it. I thought I had a lot - 35 gigabytes - but that's only 1% capacity of this new drive, so I'm thrilled to have so much space. I don't think I'll ever be able to fill all of that up, but then I never thought I'd have so many files, either, or that I'd hear of so many bands. I do love my music, I will admit to that.

Seems that my life is horribly boring without the angst, isn't it. I need to get back to the gym tomorrow, I've been horribly neglectful on that front. I do still feel angst about that - sometimes I feel like exercising does me zero good, I'm still overweight and it doesn't seem as if it helps me... but I know that I have to at least try. Sure could use some results, though. I think that maybe I'd better see my doctor, because I'm one of those ones that has tried nearly literally everything to get rid of this weight, to no avail. I'm convinced that there's a medical difficulty somewhere - there has to be. This seems to be the month for reminders about medical appointments, as I just got a notice from my optometrist to go see them, too. And Miss Dandy Lion's got a checkup scheduled for January...

I can't believe I've had that cat almost a year now. Goddamn, where did the time go?
I'm not nearly the same person I was then...

Sigh. Too much nostalgia again. I'm moody.

Speaking of nostalgia, here's a video from 1977 - does anyone remember that fake-ass shit records that K-Tel used to put out? It's kind of the vinyl version of the "Now" series of CDs out today. Anyway, there's some commercials on this thing that... well, it'll make you laugh out loud. I want to know how much they paid those idiots in those robot suits to step around like they're standing in a nest of rattlesnakes. And a 12-inch black and white TV for 70 bucks? You'd laugh your ass off if they tried to sell one of those today.



Until next time, darlings. :p

'kay, so... a quickish update.

I'm finally feeling okay enough to post a little bit, so here goes.

- Work sucks, as per usual. They really got on my last nerve today for some reason, but it's finally the end of the week. No hassles. But it's going to be taken up with...

- Schoolwork, heh. I'm approaching the end of my classes. Not hopeful for the crim course. The other, probably a B, if I can get off my lazy ass to do the overdue assignments. Pulled a B in the lib-sci course, yay me. At least that's proof that I'm not a complete idiot.

- My phone's pretty much died, it seems. Not receiving texts from most people. Sprint sucks ass, anyway. I'm looking at the iPhone as an alternative, but it's SOOO fucking expensive, ugh. We'll see.

- Kumari has the best fucking chicken tikka masala in Baltimore, bar fucking none.

- Cruise coming up in a few weeks. I have to shop. I hate shopping. That is all.

Other than that, my friends, it's been a dull couple of weeks. I don't know what my problem was last week as far as the anger's concerned. I think I'm off my medication schedules, have to get back on that. Meh. I've just been so bloody tired as of late... no energy whatsoever. I think it's the combination of school, work, the move, it's all just imploded and I'm exhausted.

Things should improve fairly quickly now that I'm more or less settled. We'll see.

Anyhow. That's it. What did you expect, a tearful goodbye line? :D Heh.

Still doing pretty well!

After the last three weeks of what was probably the worst time period for me in quite a few years, I'm still pretty much in control and feeling good (though feeling 'good' for me is not breaking into tears every five minutes, heh). I'm still dealing with a lot of stress from work, but I guess that's to be expected when you deal with idiots. For example, observe this little exchange that occurred today. I'd expect this from the people I take urine from - not a gubmint worker.

Coworker: "I need your help, please."
Myself (wandering over unwillingly): "Yes, what is it."
Coworker: "Look at this paper for a second, please, I need to make sure this sounds okay."
Myself (looking down at paper and seeing nothing wrong): "It's fine."
Coworker: "Yes, but how do you abbreviate the word second?"
Myself (looking at the paper and noting that it's clearly marked '2nd' on the paper): "Uh. It's there. On the paper."
Coworker (looks down): "Where?"
Myself (now speaking very slowly, as to a six year old): "Two....en.... dee."
Coworker: "Ohhhh! I see it now, thank you."
Myself (trying not to mutter 'moron' under my breath): "You're welcome."
Coworker (calling after me as I start to leave): "So how do you abbreviate the word floor?"
Myself (resisting the urge to bang my head against a doorway): (complete silence)

Yes, ladies and gentlemen, this is the caliber of person that is working for your government. And yes, ladies and gentlemen, this is the caliber of person that is responsible for your safety in the nation's capital. Reassured yet?

(/sarcasm off)

Anyway, other than the usual idiocy... things are fine. One note, though - I did decide to take my real name off of the profile here. Why? Because although I no longer go by a 'persona' as I did in the IRC days, this is still my blog and my personal business. Yes, it's on the web, I'm well aware - "How personal could it be?", I bet you're thinking.

Here's the thing, okay. I write in here, 99.9% of the time, on my personal time. I don't write in it at work, I don't bitch and complain about my coworkers when I'm there - I'm there to do a job. As far as I'm concerned, however, when quitting time comes around, what I do is my business. If that includes talking about how idiotic everyone I work with is, that's again my concern and my business. I'm sure that the gubmint's already 'watching' me to some extent - they may know all about this blog. That's okay by me, because as far as I know, expressing my opinion is still perfectly legal. And I'm not 'afraid' of any of the people I work with - believe me, if they ask me what I think of them, I'll tell them outright and frankly enjoy it, too, heh. Good thing they haven't asked me, isn't it. But there's no point in muddying the waters, so to speak. My "colleagues" have no reason to look me up on the Internet - and even if they did, my real name is disgustingly common, anyway. Still, I'd rather just keep my blog as my personal outlet for my frustration, you know?

No, I'm not chicken, lol. I'm sure some might think that - to which I say, "Fuck you." :)

Couple of things in the works tonight - my Dell Mini shipped today and I'm looking forward to it, very much. Will post pictures when I can get a hold of a camera that works, heh. I may be buying a camera very shortly as well.

And... I'm looking for a new apartment. Might have one lined up, I'm going to see it over the weekend. Will keep everyone posted.

And th-th-th-that's all, folks. Thursday at the drug unit again tomorrow, blehfuckgawddamnsonofasyphiliticbitch. I'm so looking forward to that, sarcasm off again.

Off to watch Mythbusters. More later.

Gah, this has been one suck-tastic week.

I've probably had the worst week of the year, from Monday all the way up to today. I am so fucking grateful that I'm home and don't have to deal with the insanity that is work for the next two days.

Here's my week in a quick review:

Monday: I had a major attack of depression and was unable to go to work. (See approximately one to two posts before this one.)

Tuesday: It was... well, Tuesday at the drug unit, which is usually 'nuff said. I was two hours late because someone had a seizure on the train and we all had to wait for an ambulance. However, keep in mind - this is Baltimore City. So the two hour wait was normal, heh. One of my coworkers (the one who refuses to leave me the fuck alone) was getting on my LAST nerve and I nearly told her to STFU, etc. Luckily I was able to keep my mouth shut. But barely. And I had to spend almost the entirety of the morning arguing with my insurance company to attempt to get an appointment for the therapy that I so desperately fucking need.

Wednesday: The train was late AGAIN - this time the excuse was that the rails were frozen and they were "trying to clear the ice off of the tracks" - so how come the fucking Amtrak train that I bought a ticket for (at 15 extra dollars) was running just fine? Anyone have an answer for that one? (And I STILL got there late - but 5 minutes late, not 2 hours.) And I got singled out in the monthly staff meeting for simply asking a question about procedure. Great.

Thursday: Probably one of the worst days ever. A coworker had a snit with me over something that happened in the staff meeting that I got bawled out in the PREVIOUS day and gave me 'the silent treatment' like a sniveling 4 year old. Every asshole that walked through the door was pissy, loud and just fucking rude. I had an entire bottle of diet Pepsi spill into my good purse - ruining my checkbook, my wallet, the book I was reading, AND my MARC train pass for the month. And I got out of work 30 minutes late because of said assholes deciding that we didn't mean what we said when we said we closed at fucking 5pm for the holidays.

Friday (today): I got to work to find out that some very important papers were MISSING - which could have meant my job AND my ass. (Luckily I found out that I'd accidentally shredded them - still a bonehead move but at least one that saved my job, and my ass, heh.) An asshole that walked through the door today gave me shit about updating a photograph and claimed that "he'd remember my name and that I'd hear from him" - as if that's going to bother me, I'm not the one with the criminal record, dickcheese - and it was disgustingly busy all day today. Friday is usually dead. Not this Friday. Not at all.

So... I think I can easily say, thank fucking Christ this week is over. I've already informed everyone I know that my "favor bank" is fucking tapped out tonight. I am not doing one goddamned thing tonight that isn't for myself or doesn't benefit ME in some way. And if people find that selfish, oh fucking well, heh.

Yep. I'm cursing up a storm - it's obvious that I'm angry. But I'm going to kick back, enjoy some hot Chinese food, cuddle up on my sofa, and surf the 'net/do whatever I want to (which tonight is nothing at all, heh).

Christ. I fucking pray next week isn't going to be this bad. I can't take it.

Uhhh.....

....someone has way too much time on their hands.

WAY too much.

Experimentation and research.

So I have a 'free' day today - a very rare thing for me, unfortunately - but I'm stuck down here at my mother's house, sigh. I can't leave here until Thursday. If I were home I'd be doing crafty shit or maybe cleaning, but since I'm not... I decided to take a look around as far as maybe moving/improving the blog, etc. So I checked out Wordpress.

Wordpress is very nice, but there are a couple of things that I just don't like about it. For one thing, you have to pay to get your domain mapped over there, to the tune of 10 dollars a year. Okay, so that doesn't seem like very much money - but I don't pay anything of the kind where I am right now. That doesn't seem right to me. And I'm not just giving up the domain name - I paid to have it, so I'm going to use it. But what I really dislike is Wordpress's occasional hair up their ass to put "Google targeted ads" onto free blogs - "every now and then", so they say. Uh, no. The Internet has advertising everyfuckingwhere, you can't get away from it, and I'd like to think that the one place that people don't have to get hassled with it is my blog. I have to pay 30 dollars a year to get rid of it? Add insult to injury - fuck, no, that's my response. Again, I have nothing of the kind here - the closest thing is a small bar at the top of the blog inviting people to move on to other blogs, which is peachy-fine with me.

So, in order for me to go to Wordpress and get exactly what I'm getting here, I have to shell out about 40 dollars a year, or basically 3.25 a month or so. Again, a nominal amount of money, but...

Wordpress = 3.25 a month vs. Blogger = 0.00 a month

Sort of decides it for me, doesn't it. The only thing that I can see is that Wordpress itself has the more "esoteric" name, and you know how I feel about that shit - I could care less what sounds better when it comes to money out of my pocket.

I'm looking into other places, though, such as Typepad, etc. I don't mind some technical challenges. Has anyone got any more ideas? Someone wrote in about something called Textpattern, I'd like to know more about that as well. Comment if you have ideas. (But keep the idea of LiveJournal to yourselves, if you don't mind, heh.)

Also... I discovered something on YouTube this morning that just made me die laughing. Dustfilms has produced "literal videos" of several popular songs - basically the song is sung matching the action in the video. It's fucking hilarious. Enjoy their version of "Under The Bridge", and make sure to check them out for the others. I'm still laughing.

Goddamnit, I KNEW IT!!!! :D I told you all I'm not white, lol!

Your result for The How Black Are You Test...

Got A Lot Of Soul

You scored 86% blackness!

You scored damn high! Congrats! You are down with black people. You know what being black is all about. You didn't score the highest, but hell give it more time and I'm sure you'll get 100%. Good for you for either knowing about another race or knowing about your own!


ps--this test was not made to offend. it is for fun. yes it's about stereotypes, but there are some important history questions in there also. thanks for taking my test and please score me well! thanks!

Take The How Black Are You Test at Hello Quizzy.

'cracked.' is now mordacious.org.

I finally "gave in" to the pressure and bought a domain name for the blog, what the hell. I cancelled my old domain from the IRC channel that I once had a hand in, and since blogging now seems to be my new "passion", so to speak... well, heh, what the hell x 2. :p

If you don't know what 'mordacious' means, look it up. I've been told that it's very fitting for both the blog and my personality in general. I wanted the dot-com, of course, but some California goth band apparently has it - and dot-net is some stupid whiny blog about an engaged couple named Calleah and Mike and how they met and all of the absolutely boring details, heh. With "his-and-hers" points of view, yet! Can we say "retch", boys and girls? I thought so! :p

Also, I've changed the "numbers" underneath the blog header. Yes, they mean something. If you don't know binary, though, or how to read it... you won't know what it means. Hint, though: It's something I say a lot. :p

Work continues on the blog. I've lost all of my "most-read" links for some reason, but they'll be restored in time. Patience, my lovelies.

Anyhow. Not much is going on but work and sleep, work and sleep, jump on the train, work and sleep. Meh. That's bad when you already feel like you need a vacation and you're on the job a grand total of eight weeks, hah. I really was looking up vacation sites earlier today - I have a 4 day weekend coming up in January thanks to Inauguration Day and I'd love to just take off somewhere if I can afford it. Maybe I'll have a look around - Western Maryland might appeal again, it'll be the dead of winter and if it snows, it'll be gorgeous. We'll see.

I'm still around, though, and I'll write more over the weekend, as usual. I have bowling on Saturday night - my schedule is rapidly filling up, the next 3 weekends are booked solid with something going on.

It's like going to Sydney somehow opened up a whole new, entirely different life for me. I'm so glad that I went now - I really am. My life's changed for the better in most respects, but I still have pieces of my old life with me - and they've changed for the better as well.

For the most part, despite my bitching and grousing - I'm happy. :)

Warning - big fucking rant coming your way. Run now if you can't handle it.

It was a very, very rough day at work yesterday, and even now, a day later, I’m still not in a good mood. I’m really tired of being taken advantage of, in all respects. I work my ass off, I do everything that I’m supposed to do, and I get treated like shit – it never fails and it never ends.

No, it’s not so bad that I can’t deal with it, at least right now. But it makes me question myself – whether I’ve “grown” at all in the last year, or if I’m still stuck in psychological limbo where I still feel as if I’m worthless and need to be used as a punching bag. I’m trying so hard to work on myself and to treat myself better – but somehow I come up short still in that department.

I know what it is, you know – I just can’t “sit and do nothing” at work. I can’t do what these people do, sit there and watch movies and gossip while I’ve got a line going out the door. I just cannot do that. I work with the public – my first “allegiance”, if you will, is to them. I don’t care what Britney Spears is doing with her life – that’s her life, not mine. I don’t give a shit what Ciara’s wearing today, I don’t give a fuck if Lindsey’s gay, I don’t care if R. Kelly’s not guilty, I DON’T GIVE A FLYING FUCK. The only people that I care about is me and mine, and if that’s selfish, then I’m the most selfish person alive. What do celebrities have to do with me? Uh, nothing?

And they shouldn’t be important to the people I work with, either, but that’s apparently their main focus.

The little time that I DO get to be on the ‘net – ONLY when things are slow – I read the news. That’s right, quelle horreur, I actually have some interest as to what’s going on in the world! I’m more interested in whether I’m going to lose my fucking money because of the goddamned banks’ idiocy than what Paris Hilton’s latest beef is. Hey, guess what – Paris Hilton’s going to eat no matter who she’s fighting with. There’s no guarantee that I will!

I guess that this is more of a rant about peoples’ priorities than whether or not I’m getting taken advantage of – although it’s directly related. It’s just that every time I believe that people can’t get more stupid and moronic, I’m proven wrong – every… fucking… time. I’ve been told to “look at the positive, I can’t think of everyone that way”. Well, I’ve got news for you – I don’t think of everyone that way. There are some people that can be excused for doing stupid things, because it isn’t a normal way of life for them! Those are the people that I can relate to, hang out with, like and love.

But when stupid is a normal way of life for someone… I’m sorry, but them? I can’t and WON’T excuse it. They don’t deserve excuses, what they need is a lobotomy.

Television has sunk to an all-new low.

It's sad when the broadcast networks use half an hour of "valuable" programming time to highlight their so-called "new" shows. Ugh.

Desperation much?

I'm fine, for those of you who've asked. No, I'm still angry about what happened last week and I suspect I will be for a long time to come. Every word in that last post, I meant.

Anyway.

I am tired of believing.

I'm not going to go into what happened to upset me, other than it's the same stupid bullshit that always happens every time I let down my guard and believe that things will ever get better for me. They don't, you know. Just when I think I can trust people, I get smacked in the fucking face, again and again. I thought that with the new job and the new apartment and all of that, things would finally make a turn for the better. Wrong. Wrong, wrong, wrong, fucking wrong. Aren't I always wrong?

The only difference now is that I will not even bother to let people know that I'm angry. I'm just going to cut them out of my life altogether because that's the only way anything gets through. They piss me off? Instant goodbye, it's as simple as that. I don't need the aggravation or the bullshit. I really don't. Fuck people, fuck their mindless sheep mentalities, fuck it all. I'm going to come in, do my job to the best of my ability as quietly as humanly possible, come home and deal with humanity and society as little as possible, and as soon as I can extricate myself out of a situation, I will so be gone, quicker than you can blink.

I mean that. Every word. Every fucking word. I am so done.

Fucking irritated.

People just piss me the fuck off.

Thanks, that is all.

Internet tomorrow... yay.

Heh. I'm feeling a little better, I guess. I'm just sick of being cut off, I think - I never really knew how much I had depended on the 'net for.. well, really, everything. My bills are soooo behind right now - and why? Because I don't get them mailed to me anymore... that's right... they're on the 'net, heh.

At least I'm not down to Pringles cantennas (although I'll be honest... I'd been contemplating it. Heh).

Anyway. Verizon had better have their shit together.... I so mean that shit. I'm going nuts here.

Still without communcation - for now.

I'm reduced to using the public library to get Internet because Verizon STILL doesn't have their shit together. This coming Tuesday is now the deadline (more like excuse) they're giving me. Meh. I seem to recall a long, angry diatribe about this a couple of years back when I settled into my new apartment (now old apartment)! Some of you might even remember it, heh.

I have a lot to tell about the job, and about the move, everything, but the limited time that they give you at the library just isn't really enough - and for some reason I feel a little weird if I'm not in the comfort of my own home. Stupid? Perhaps, but I'm set in my ways, I guess. Jesus, that's how you know you're getting old!

Anyway, I WILL be back - and with FioS as well. I hear tell it's a lot faster than
Comcast. We'll see about that, but I can't wait, heh.

I miss my Internet! :'(

Counting down to the last days.

I only have 48 or so more hours here in Sydney, and I can say that this has truly been "the trip of a lifetime". Would I come back for another visit? You'd better believe I will, even if it takes forever to get here. I don't think that I'd ever visit this place in summer, though - 40+ Celsius temperatures are just a bit too much for me to handle. However, my next "target", so to speak, is Europe. I do want to visit the U.K. and Ireland, both places where my ancestors supposedly came from (my mother's side is from Devon in the south of the U.K., my father's side from northwestern Ireland, County Sligo - you know, the black marshes and shit, heh). But that'll be some time away, as I now owe a fuckload of money, pretty much. I still have to settle this shit with the stuff from D.C. - they unbelievably "gave my job away" while I was out of the country and they're supposedly upset about it. Uhhuh. Whatever. This is why I didn't pin any hopes on this shit, but... it still hurts.

I didn't really get a lot of pictures here - I guess I was just too excited to take a lot, and my Powerhouse Museum shots have seemingly disappeared into the void - which I truly am upset about. But we'll see what happens. I still have a couple of places to go before this trip is done, so I'll get what I can.

I attended a fabulous concert last night at The Basement here in Sydney, and saw Tina Harrod - she's fabulous! I've been slowly getting into jazz and slow 'night' style music, and let me say this - this woman will not disappoint by any means. I think one of my favorite tracks was 'C.C. Rider' - the heart and soul that she put into that track was unbelievable! She also did Portishead covers (I think that was a lot of her influence, tell the truth), Beatles covers... her range is impressive. It's a shame that she's not known in the States - she should be. She doesn't appear to have a website (it's down), but ABC Australia has a link here - go listen! Now! I command you! :D

I do have a rant, however, concerning the concert, and it has nothing to do with the music, or the performance - no, they were first-rate. This has everything to do with... my shoes. Yes, my shoes.

I purchased a beautiful pair of black and silver accented 'ballet flats' shortly before I came to Sydney. Indeed, I even bought them a size too large so that they'd fit comfortably. They're Dr. Scholls - a name well known in America for quality, comfortable footwear and foot products. Don't believe me? Have a look for yourself - it's all right here.

So I'm wearing these shoes, and suddenly my feet are pinching in the toes - this is not a normal place for shoes to pinch, if they're going to - normally all of the discomfort is going to come from the heel. Not these motherfuckers. Oh, no! I ended up standing at The Basement in my bare feet because these shoes pinched so badly that I couldn't even stand in them!

You should have seen me trying to walk back to the apartment. Ladies and gentlemen, a walk that would normally take me 5 minutes to complete in tennis shoes took me 45 minutes to walk - in bare feet. That's right, I walked the mean streets of Sydney at 12:45 in the morning - in wintertime, yet - in my bare toes. I only thank Christ that Sydney's sidewalks are practically clean enough to eat off of, because if this were Baltimore my feet would have been minced meat by the time I got back.

And the final insult? It says right on the shoes - "feel crazy good". Uh, right, my fat ass. If your idea of feeling crazy good is to have your feet pinched just standing in a pair of flats, then honey, this is your brand. I expected better from Dr. Scholls, who have a fucking reputation to protect.

Fuck you, Dr. Scholl. I bet your ass isn't a real fucking M.D., anyway. I bet you're one of those quack motherfuckers that sold cocaine as a wonder drug in the 1890s. Dickhead.

Now that my rant is over... I'm going to enjoy some stir-fry, and unfortunately start packing. I'm going to miss this place, very much. But it's time to get going on what is... well, left of my life, I guess.