Hey, Listen To Me Bitch; I'm Pretty Good At It

Our housekeeper is from Portugal, and she doesn't register with me properly. She's been cleaning this house twice a week for seventeen years, but she complains to me constantly -- because we're "friends" -- and she dogs out the previous nanny's who've worked here.

She'll dog me out next year, too, probably.

I think the problem is the language barrier. See, I have a low tolerance for non-native English speakers. Especially when they've lived in the country for twenty-five years. I just feel that if you live in a country, you should read and listen to the language -- not at the expense of the native language, of course.

She says, "what you can do it?"

All the time she says this.

She means, "what can you do about it?"

Friday, as I lay on the sofa enflamed in a fever, she approached me to ask if I wanted to do the housekeeping and she would just quit.

She smiled and pointed at the playroom like it was something excited, "yeah! you like housework? yeah!"

"No."

My head was twirling like a pole-dancer: I think I even had the flashing strobe lights going on. I just wanted to puke. But since I'm incappable of just blurting out that someone is a

fucking thoughtless piece of shit

I just commented that I would be gone in less than a year.

Oh, and the dryer broke (it was fixed yesterday, though) on Friday, and I forgot to tell my boss, so the housekeeper called because she assumed I would forget.

She didn't assume I would forget because I had an infectuous disease when she told me about the dryer. She just assumed I would not remember.

Today she comes in and I thanked her for calling. I reminded her of how sick I had been, and that the whole day was pretty much wiped from my memory on account of the fever (I still cooked dinner though).

This woman had the audacity to tell me that I should make notes for myself. She even told me where the dry-erase board is, like I don't fucking live here.

I don't know why I let her annoy me. Just because she thinks I do no work is nonessential to me. My job runs from 6:30am to 8:00am, and then 2:00 in the afternoon and goes non-stop until seven (or later, depending on when the parents get home from work). This does not include the car maintenance, laundry, grocery shopping, etc. that I might have to do during the day.

The housekeeper just sees me sitting here, though, at the computer, in the morning, and she thinks I suck ass.

She's probably just jealous that I'm not a life-timer.

I'm going to go take a shower and leave to go somewhere. Anywhere.

Oh, how neurotic am I?

I've taught myself HTML like a fucking wizard and keep tweaking the brains out of this shit. My guestbook looks radder now too.

SO GO SIGN IT

I'm going to listen to rap today, while I'm driving around. Cypress Hill and the Wu Tang Clan, and probably some Dr. Dre. Maybe I'll buy some more rap cd's.

I feel like a goddam thug today.

I hope there aren't any huge fights when I go home for Thanksgiving.

Remember last year, anyone? When I broke into tears at the dinner table because I lost out on the job I was interviewing for in Orlando? My mom and sister felt so important being able to comfort me. I've got a pretty little list of "I'm thankful..." to throw out this year, but I feel like my mom and sister will somehow resent that I'm so blessed so far away from them. Like they'll be thinking of how I'm getting comfortable so far away, and that I'll never want to come home. Maybe they should read my journal. Mama wouldn't like the dirty words.

How can they think I don't need them?

I'm going to fly my brothers up to see me after Christmas.

Remember the Thanksgiving that Maggie ruined? Well, I guess it was already ruined when dad left three month earlier. It didn't help that I showed up with some asshole and we lied to everyone about us dating.

I'm so fucking weird.

I broke up with the guy in the carride home, and then spent the whole weekend faking like he was still my boyfriend.

Maggie didn't help, though, when she asked mom for her opinion on the dude right there at dinner. It's a joke, though, between me and Maggie. We all know the asshole ruined it, and not her.

He told my mother I sucked, and that he was sick of me.

This is why mom and Muriah don't trust me.

Because I have been with very hurtful people in the past. I've never been with a man who adored me, and -- like myself -- was incapable of intentionally causing me harm.

They don't forgive me for being eighteen.

I'm obviously not a "victim" since I am single, though, right? I've managed to leave all the abuser, right? I've managed to keep my future clear. No marriages, or children, or mortgages, or other things my mother already had one or more of by the time she was my age.

The only reason why I have trouble with men is because I haven't met the ONE yet, so I have a lot of time to sit and think about everything under the sun regarding myself and love.

The idea of my little brothers being worldly-wise and street-smart isn't difficult for them. John-Michael is a whore, Nathanael -- well, you know -- but

if I give my number to a guy that I meet at a concert I'm concidered as having behaved in a half-cocked, unreserved, and risky manner.

If I get drunk it's considered a cry for help as I sink into addiction.

If I curse it's considered an adulteration of my true nature of sweetness and peurile innocence.

But then my mom and sister start talking sex, and I ask them to stop, and they're like, "oh yeah! I keep forgetting you're the only virgin in the family!"

Kiss my ass.

This is too much here; don't be surprised if I delete all this.

fuck this shit