The time I paid the $70 dumb bitch tax

Disclaimer: I call myself a bitch and a slut and a cunt and a drunk and a dumbfuck and all of that because 1) It’s me, I’m ALLOWED to refer to myself HOWEVER I please, also 2) I’m attempting to point out that men need to think of better supreme insults than calling a woman a bitch. My own father has called me a bitch. Do better.

So. It was two weekends ago. The weekend right before New Years Eve (which was obnoxiously on a Monday). I had just finished transcribing draft #2, and was very excited to get it printed at Office Max to give to my beta reader (N).

When I was ordering this manuscrupt on Office Max’s website, I SPECIFICALLY asked my husband, “Now you DON’T want a copy of this as well, right? I need to know because I need to order it now.” He said no, don’t do that, save the $, he’ll just read the pages I print at home.
YEAH

Except my husband did that ~adorable~ thing he does, where as soon as he SEES something, he’s very overtaken by the need to have it. So that same evening we’re leaving OM and he’s freaking out, saying things along the lines of “Oh I’m so excited to read this now.”

WHAT THE FUCK

WHAT THE FUCK

Is it just me, or is that him being a crazy controlling brat who tries to make everything about him? Because just wait

I specifically said to my husband, I told you this copy from OM was for N, I told you that and I ASKED you if you wanted your own copy and YOU SAID NO. BUT NOW, NOW THAT THERE’S A CHANCE TO ACT LIKE THE WOUNDED VICTIM, OH FUCK KNOWS YOU COULDN’T PASS THAT ONE UP.

He was terse and pissy and rude the rest of the evening, telling me he was “just trying to get excited” about my writing. OH BUT THE WRITING THAT’S BEEN WAITING FOR HIM TO READ AT HOME FOR MONTHS, THAT HE JUST COULDN’T GET EXCITED ABOUT. OR MAYBE he’s just trying to take something that’s SO important to me and make it about himself.

That’s how that makes me feel.

So. I noticed a few issues with OM MS #1 (if you’re not in the know, MS means manuscript, so fancy word for draft of unfinished work). and was like, okay husband, I’m going to order a second MS, because this first one is missing an index I want it to have and it’s missing page numbers (my bad, not Office Max’s).

SO I was like, all right husband, I’m going to print a SECOND $35 MS at Office Max (same weekend, same worker who was super rude the first time I picked the MS up, but was really nice the second time…and he seemed super gay, so like…did he read a part of it? hahahahhaha that makes me laugh. I don’t blame him if he did….how often does that Office Max print epic shit?) and I do. And I’m showing the second, slightly better copy to my husband, and he PULLS THE SAME SHIT.

In that, he starts “getting excited” about reading the better MS I $35-printed. EVEN THOUGH I told him the better one was going to N. Because why would you give a beta reader a copy without page numbers? Like really? If I couldn’t have paid for the second one I would have written page numbers in, of course, but I had a little $ from Christmas so I was like fuck it lets do this.

SO my husband pulls the same But-I-wanted-that shit with me, like he has done so many times in the past with so many other things, not the least of which being my physical body of course. Like there were MANY times during our multi-partner sexcapades that he made me feel like a tree he needed to piss on after he saw another dog pissing on it.

Yeah, anonymous sex with a bunch of different peopele didn’t make me feel great about myself. GO FIGURE. I just wish the guys were hotter. The girls were all right, I found the first one super hot, and the second one was one of those like I’ll do anything because I know I’m a 5 types. We all know I like ordering people around. Anyway.

So. After much angry storming off and sullen silence, my husband’s usual, along with getting this specific facial expression very akin to something his father does when upset. I just wish my husband also NEVER yelled or grew violent like his father as well, my husband came to peaceable terms with the notion that I would want to give an “outsider” beta reader the more polished/professional looking copy.

SOO GOOD OF HIM, RIGHT? Like for real I was discussing this with my best friend via text the entire time. She never really offers much an opinion, but she did point out that his excitemnet for reading my shit shouldn’t be so contingent on how it’s printed. She definitely didn’t word it that way, but yeah.

So I messaged N on Twitter (because that is the only way we’ve interacted at all since…well, like I need to elaborate…think I’ve done that enough elsewhere) about having it ready for him, and he said, and I quote, “Next few days for sure” around December 29th. YEAH. IT HAS YET TO HAPPEN. He does have some shit to deal with in his life, and yeah like I DO get that…but…at the same time…..should I just like…keep prodding about it? Like I somehow doubt he’s forgotten that I told him I had a specially printed MS for him to read? SOOOO?… ?…..? LOST.

Unless he’s just waiting until he’s done dealing with his shit, then he’ll be like yeah let’s get that over to me.

I told him awhile ago that I didn’t want to mail it or email it…I mean, printed a physical copy is the fucking plot to this story…so….but at the same time, like a simple hand off at a starbucks midday on a Sunday would’ve worked for me, or something equally as innocuous/not seeming like I’m still trying to fuck this guy. Because, like, I REALLY do want someone else whom I consider “smart” (I mean I know him from grad school and he teaches at a college…so….) to read this and tell me what they REALLY think. Like…Aghhhhh I was SO fucking close to having that happen…and NOW he’s stringing me along when it comes to this like the other shit and ahhhhh

I know I go on about how I’m patient, and I really am, but I also get really angry all the time. It’s not so easy reconciling these two things.

Speaking of impatient, I’m probably writing on this upsetting topic and crying a ton about it because I’m probably due to start my period in a few days. And, I think we all know why that’s a little depressing. You never know it until you’re at that point, if you ever are, but each month it’s some annoying painful defeat to get one when you don’t want to. You tell yourself it’s for the best and you’re not financially ready and to not think about the fucking idiots you know who who DO get to have kids….but it happens anyway.

But I now have in my possession 2 $35 manuscripts printed from Office Max. The better one, the one intended for N, is almost completely pen-edited by this point. I’m on page 242 of like 265. So, yesterday I DM him and am like, well since i’m almost done editing this, you might as well wait until I’m done with it and have it printed again….and then he more or less didn’t respond…like he said something in response, but it wasn’t an acknowledgement of ANY sort of action taking place on his part soon. So….should I be taking this as a sign to let it go? WTF. I mean, who doesn’t love being brushed off right? It’s not that I don’t understand not dealing with something because you’re dealing with your own shit, I just KNOW I wouldn’t do this if the roles were reversed. Because I have a VERY strong subservient/desperate for a specific kind of male attention streak. I mean. I know this. My mom and Grandma and all. And like…why do you think I put up with R so much? You have no idea some of the fucked up shit that happened with him. I don’t write about it because I’M TRYING TO FUCKING FORGET because it gives me anxiety because it COULD have gone so wrong. Blackout alcoholics are fucking scary and need to be kept on a farm somewhere, together. Until they’re all dead. There. i said something really fucked up this far in so only my TRUE followers will see it.

You can’t blame me though, really. Not after W. And R. There’s no going back from breaking certain things. Nope. I get I put up with it for some time so it seemed like that would go on forever…but I always surprise people when I like snap and am done with them FOREVER.

ANYWAY

BACK TO THE $70 dumb bitch tax

So the copy I had to buy because my husband suddenly needed his own spiral bound MS that was to go to N, I edited and will input those edits and then this will go into the keepsake bin (i have a lot of those, ONE DAY I’ll blog their contents because some of it is actually awesome, I’ll show you, one day, when I have time, KINDA busy right now)

And the copy intended for my husband, the first MS from Office Max?

UNREAD.

I mean, I get my husband works out several (like 30) hours per week, and he works like 25-30 hours as a barista, so he’s like somewhat busy…BUT OMFG THAT IS SO IRRITATING HE’S NOT EVEN READING IT. AFTER ALL OF THE BULLSHIT AND LITERALLY WASTING $35 ON A SECOND COPY SO HE COULD HAVE ONE, HE’S NOT READING IT.

I wish I was the “scream into a pillow” sort. But I smoke too much weed, I can’t scream unnecessarily.

I guess it was nice having a spiral bound copy to edit, because I actually enjoy editing on paper, MUCH more than on my laptop. So it was $35 well spent, in a way, but the second one….AHG. I can’t. NEITHER of them read their copy. Do you realize how sad and poetic and metaphorical this is for me? Like, okay…..OKAY, fucking tell me to breathe here…but…..THERE HAS NEVER been a man in my life is who didn’t DISAPPOINT THE FUCK out of me on a regular basis.

what the fuck

is that

supposed to mean?

Do the women? NOT NEARLY AS MUCH. My mom and my best friend are the ones that actually surprise me sometimes, even now. My Grandma is the ONLY reason I had even the semblance of normal shit in my childhood.

Ahhhhhhhhhhh

This was supposed to be complaining about one thing. Way to creepily become about some weird theme in my life like I planned it. SEE, if I’d tried to plan a blog like this, it would fall flat and I would go on a million different tangents only I find interesting and so on and so forth.

I should have gone to pole today, but I just didn’t. I could’ve scrounged the $20, but eh, I just don’t feel like working out that much. Just eh.

Anyway, I feel like I should take this as some sort of lesson. But. Should I? Am I just being a hugely self centered hyper critical bitch, because boyyyyy does that sound like me…… Who’s to know?

OFF TO EDIT THE MANUSCRIPT I PRINTED FOR MYSELF

This is what happens when I do something for someone other than Cassie. THIS is what they do when I try and like reach out and shit. THIS. BAH.

Happy fucking January, y’all

Brightside: days ARE getting longer…..wait that’s it

~Cassie

What the goddamn fucking shit is going on with this past week, am I on some sort of reality TV show right now?

Just absorb the message of that email:

I’ve gotten three reviews from this exact boss before. This is first time she’s ever requested we do so on a Saturday…and for the specific reason that she wants to do it when no one else is there…..BUT WHY.

I guess if I walk in on Saturday and someone from HR is with her I’ll know. She said it’ll take “approximately thirty minutes.” I’m literally filled with questions and confusion and dread. OMFG it’s been the week for those feelings, hasn’t it???

Like, I would love to say I’m not upset and angry about shit. But I am. I wish I wasn’t. If there was something I could magically fucking do to stop consistently thinking about the same shit, I would do it. I mean I tried rage stigmata, but my hands aren’t strong enough not like they were when I was a kid. At least now I just have to hold it together at work. My husband is good, VERY good, about emotional support. That and his unique status as the first/only guy to ever EVER appreciate me for the awesome person I am are why I’m still with him AND married to him AND took his last name. Again, these things did not occur magically, they are possibly my hardest “earned things that aren’t things” as I like to call them. Like my friendship with my best friend, which most people don’t have with someone from the 8th grade. Or the fact that my ENTIRE life people have been telling me I’m a strong/talented/good writer. Or that my husband tells me all the time that I’ll always have a husband who loves me.

Oh my fucking god, like WHAT IS THIS WEEK? Do you realize how normal and happy and excited I felt last Thursday compared to today?

You know what I found TRULY unfair? How misery doesn’t burn calories. I mean, it should, right? You can say the whole lost-my-appetite-due-to-sadness and yes that does happen to me all the time but I’m still an alcoholic who truly prefers beer. Jesus I haven’t worked out in like a week. But it’s cool because I haven’t been able to afford pole classes in a month. It’s $75 for 4, and it’s $ I just haven’t had. Which is so fucking embarrassing and pathetic. I’m thirty, I’ve been working since I was 16, I worked full time through a bachelors and a masters….and I’ve been living paycheck to paycheck the entire time. My husband is a barista. Yeah. I work REALLY hard at not comparing myself to others…which is good….because I really often think about how no one else I know rents anymore or drives the car they had when they were 19. But whatever. I’d trade actual, genuine friendships/FWB over that other shit. But spoiler I don’t get that either. I see my best friend roughly three times a year, on a good year.

Why doesn’t crying burn calories? It goddamn should. All it does is make my under-eye area super puffy, then the next day it’s a little more wrinkled than it was. How DEEPLY unfair is it that crying causes eye wrinkles???? Like…clearly I already HAVE problems please no more.

Speaking of, I read something that said donating blood burns a shit ton of calories and prevents cancer.

Do you think that last one is true, or is it like Red Cross propaganda? The calories makes sense because like…they steal a pint of your blood and all.

The game plan.

I am on my first tall can.

I have one more.

Before he goes to spar, I’m going to ask my husband to get my the shit for my favorite mixed drink. Prepare yourselves, because I’m about to reveal how trash I really am. It’s rum (a cheap one, because we’re broke AF like always on Thursdays, so probably Castillo…yeah….Castillo.) and wild cherry pepsi on ice. Don’t tell me that isn’t perfect and amazing. But it’s probably just as calorie-laden as beer.

BUT the drunk from booze is different than beer drunk. Personally, I HATE wine drunk. I know, revoke my vagina right now. Like most people I don’t like who I become on tequila, I don’t like any of the “brown” liquors (despite LOVING the phrase “stuff it down with brown,” I just pretend it pertains to beer…although I only like light beers like pilsners or heffeweizens or kolsch. OMFG I love Kolsch beer. Okay I sound like one of the pretension douches. Get this straight, 90% of the time I drink Coors Light from the can. I don’t even pour it in a glass because then I have to wash that glass.

So I’m going to get very, very drunk tonight. I work at 6am tomorrow, and it’s going to be a day spent ENTIRELY thinking about how my boss is making me drive to work an EIGHTH time this week to give me my review when no one else is around. There’s literally no chance it’s for a GOOD reason. W used to do this to me. He’d have to break away from a lecture/screaming session because the POS needs to chill out all the time (by “chill out” I mean sit and watch TV and drink coffee and chew tobacco and get high on pain meds/booze) THEN when he’s done chilling out…if he doesn’t feel the need to nap (thank god W never had a job to get in the way of his lifestyle) it was right back to it. I’d be in my room, or watching TV in a room separate from the room HE watched TV in…and there he’d come, charging in, all angry (even moreso this time because you know, heightened level of fucked up-ed-ness) just to bring it up all over again, and just keep saying the same shit over and over. That’s part of his I’m-going-to-wear-you-down-mentally play. W never stopped being a shitbag cop. No one knows this more than his family. With my mom, he’d come charging into the room where she was attempting to dissociate and say, “AND ANOTHER THING,” that’s how he always started it. Like…keep that fight going…don’t let bad feelings die…bring up mistakes someone made 5 years ago when you’re mad at them for something completely unrelated….just you know, the mean (WOW that was a mistype but a spooky one…) the MANY things he did on a constant basis that I grew up thinking were normal. I was the only one smart enough to get away out of the four of us. I guess W’s way out is a little dark, but you know what the fucker chose his lot in life when he ruined my childhood and my brother’s sanity.

This is why, more than ANYTHING else, I’ve so far controlled my urges to contact N again. Because I’m seriously obsessed by the idea.

Not over sex.

Please.

Do I LOOK desperate? Look at my ass in this dress. You could crack walnuts with that thing.

IMG_0150_Moment.jpg

BUT, like….I fucking NEED beta readers. And who else do I know who’s smart besides my very busy best friend? My husband is already my very first reader.

Is this me lying to myself?

IDK. I don’t think so?

I don’t mean to be mean but like….it’s not like the guy is SO good-looking I can’t be around him without it getting weird for my hypersexual self. Like the MEGA fine director who sits by me who says good morning to me on certain mornings. I literally cannot look at him and talk to him at the same time without turning SO red. We had a guy in sales, one who I had to work with because I remove sold units when the buyers come get them, and EVERY time he came over and talked to me, I could feel my face turning red as the conversation went on. Omg he was so cute. I added him on Linked In and he never accepted. He left the company kind of bitterly, but he bothered to come over and say good-bye to me when he said he was probably going to be leaving because he asked for more money and if he didn’t get it he was leaving. SO tragic the day Donnie left. I said his name. It’s common enough I guess. So, I don’t have all that going on with N. Plus I’m great at looking terrible when I want to. It’s a skill if you’re trying not to get creeped on. Not saying N was creepy with me…in fact the opposite…if taunting someone with sex (twice!) is the opposite of being a creeper.

So. I could potentially see asking him to read CF (nickname clusterfuck).

But then part of my brain is like What are you doing? Do you WANT to have to kick yourself later? Why do you love that SO Cassie, mmm? Do you know? Why are you intent on pursuing the men who behave as if you couldn’t possibly matter that much to them?

I always know.

I’d say that’s the deepest loss in all of this.

God I CANNOT stop obsessing over this.

It’s just like when I was like….8-12 years younger than I am now.
Well that’s probably not the best sign.

SIGH.

Well, I think I’m going to finish this night out by writing maybe another page – because side note I want to try and write every day in November – then I’m going to drink heavily and play Friday the 13th online, which is a dope game, if you’re so inclined to gaming.

‘Til next time

The soon to be unemployed

~Cassie

Luck v. Persevereance

I’m lucky in so many odd ways. I have a great waistline and breast size, and nice lip/nipple color, and I’ve always had a magnanimous benefactress in my life (first my Grandma, then/now my mother in law), and I’ve been given two cars and three computers (1 desktop, 2 laptops, if you’re wondering) in my life. “Looks are an accident, Dr. Lecter.” “If comeliness were earned, you would still be beautiful.” My god I love Thomas Harris. He’s like my living Puzo. At least I think he’s alive.

I’m waiting for dinner. I’m done with CF for the day. My brain literally hurts right now, I can’t create any more eloquent word thoughts. I can’t. Seasonal allergy related sinus headaches can fuck right off.

How’s my life, in a few words?

I haven’t seen my pointless father or brother in four years. I haven’t seen my mom in the past year, but she and I email each other every day. I’m always torn between still loving my mom, and then being very much like “Lie in the bed you made, bitch.” towards her. She should’ve left my dad when the Bad Shit happened when I was 5. Like, it was the 90s, not the 30s, she could have fucking divorced him. So, no matter how sad hearing about her pathetic life makes me, I kind of don’t let it totally get to me, you know?

Coworker I wanted to fuck, back in the day, is leaving my department, at long last. He kind of offended me about two months ago (whenever Kamikaze came out, it was that very day) and I never got over it, I wrote a freaking huge blog about it and all….BUT, his super hot even younger brother now works in my department. It feels like a fucking porno. Like his little brother is so hot, it’s hard for me to look right at him when I’m talking to him. And before I sound like a disturbed pervert, his little brother is 23. So young but like…definitely legal. MMMMhmm. Anyway. Then of course there’s the other two guys at my work who I would fuck like yesterday. I added the one on Linked In, because I heard people use Linked In to hook up, but as of yet, nothing. 10/10 disappointment.

Something interesting is happening elsewhere, but it feels wrong mentioning just now, on here.

I’m on page 214 in CF. I have about 50 pages left to transcribe, then that bitch is like an actual, complete thing. Working on assembling more intelligent people to read it over before I pay a professional editor. It’s hard because like…who’s smart and trustworthy? That’s a rare fuckin’ combo.

Anyway. Oh yeah, my 12 year old cat Felix is diabetic, he was diagnosed last weekend. I have to give him insulin every 12 hours. It’s kind of annoying because I’m like “Cool, going on vacation just became a million times more complicated for us” but then I’m also like “Self, when the fuck is the last time you went on “vacation”?” IF Shakespeare Behind Bars counts, then that when we went last May, but still. Plus we get nervous leaving the plants for that long, to be honest.

Dinner is ready. Hope all is well. Keep strong and keep on, writing community. Write it first and do it for yourselves.

~Cassie

Just go with it

Not anything specific, that’s just how I’ve always lived my life. It’s been going okay for me, I guess.

Let’s see, what’s new. Well, as if we’re even surprised, nothing fun or spontaneously sexual happened with my work outing. I wish, right? Well, at least with the one, but upon meeting that dude’s wife….uhh….there’s no nice way to say what I have to say about all that *eye roll eye roll eye roll* it’s just that I can’t stand anyone whose entitled, I really can’t. It’s my parents fault, I had to watch them entitle and ruin my brother.

Not much is really going on. Ive been going to that poledancing class for the past few weeks, just as I suspected it’s fun but an insane amount of work, and I am terrible. Like embarrassingly terrible. But I guess it’s important to keep going back. Its not often that I find an athletic activity that I’m actually into. Just wish I had the necessary upper body strength. Perhaps one day….

I am in the process of looking for a new job. So many things are a toss up right now. I’m kind of waiting to see if I get a new job or get pregnant first. We’ve been trying, I can tell you that much. My husband has some really specific cum fetishes so that works out (if you’re dying to know he’s got this thing with the idea of cum dripping out of someone, I’m like where have you been it always does that) I wouldn’t say I hate my current job, but there’s a lot about it that I don’t want to deal with anymore and let’s face it no one earns a masters in English to work in logistics.

Speaking of actually using my degree, I should let you know that I’ve really come a long way towards having a ful rough draft. The picture below is my story board, it’s the first book all in one place. The stuff with blue highlight is already written, so now it’s just a matter of getting the rest done and smoothing it into a cohesive rough draft good enough to hand to other people and ask for their opinions. Then, its self publishing time. I like how self publishing gives the writer all of the control. We all know how I like control….lol…..

It’s not the easiest thing to ask someone whose input would be worth while to read a full draft. I’ve been dropping hints with my best friend, but she just graduated from medical school as starts a legit doctor job in June so….IDK if I should expect her to be able to help.

Next Saturday I’m actually going to see my three friends from the job I had 2005-2012, one of them would be a good candidate. Well see where the conversation goes when I see them, mostly they just want to talk about their kids. I’m not telling them were trying, I don’t want to tell anyone. Plus it could take five years so who knows.

So yeah, this might be my most upbeat post ever, but it wasn’t meant that way. Not to say I’m feeling down either. Naturally, I fall into that laid back don’t give a fuck category, I really do. I wonder sometimes about how I would be as a person if I hadn’t been SO exposed to my parents’ mental illness as a child. I mean I know I’ve spent some time discussing how my dad is a piece of shit psychotic narcissist, but I mean I never forgot to remember that my mom was the one keeping us there, too weak to leave or even stand up for herself, or us. And I guess it was a side effect of being so miserably unhappy in her marriage, because she surely was the most depressive mother a person could ask for. She used all of her cheerfulness, all of the joy and happiness that’s naturally a part of any given person’s demeanor, impressing strangers. In being he sweet, passive one at work, she’d come home and yell at me when she really wanted to yell at my dad and her shitty coworkers. People were always telling me how nice my mom was, how she just never get mad……yeeeeeeah those types of people are the worst kind to be around when they feel secure. My mom only felt secure when it was her and I. And no matter how many times a person can be told to not speak to their child about ALL of their adult problems, someone like my mom isn’t going to listen. Because even the ones getting abused, they still just want to be able to inflict that same suffering on someone else. The only breaking of the cycle is possible, but it is not easy. I know very well how hard it is.

See, there’s that Cassie tone. Well lunch is almost over so I should peace.

~Cassie