I WAS DRESSED AS XXX-TINA ALL DAY YESTERDAY, AND NOT ONE OF YOU FUCKERS CAME AND SAW ME!
Today it's 60's GoGo Dancer.
It's hot.
So I think my roomate needs help. I knew him when I lived in Blacksburg. I moved away, he stayed, then he moved in with his mom in Williamsburg. Said he hated it. Wanted to move. He moves here with me. Says he's in therapy & on meds. I don't exactly know why. He seems like any other sappy-emo-feel-bad-for-me-type. OK fine. I've been depressed before...so I got him a job at Plan9. He worked at the Radio Station with me at VaTech. He knows a lot about music. He works like 4 shifts in 2 weeks. Thinks my boyfriend hates him (who works at the 9 too). Gets upset when we tell him how to work there. Doesn't take criticism, uh, at all. Gets frustrated. Takes a lot of cigarette breaks to cool off. Almost lets his pet rat die of a mysterious brain tumor. Gets over-emo about the rat. Comes in to work on Saturday. Extra-emo. Asks if he can go on break at roughly 12:30. I say, I guess so (I'm manager on duty). We usually don't go on break till after 2 or 3 just because it gets busy, and we have to make sure there's enough people there. He clocks out. Leaves. An hour passes. Hour and a half. Two. Three and a half hours pass. We've called him once. No answer on the cell phone. We leave a message. My boss finds note hiding in office on the fax machine. Note says basically, "Sorry this is not working out. I quit. Sorry for the short notice. I don't fit in. You'd be better off with someone else."
WTF?
You don't just up and walk out on a job in the middle of your shift, unless you're a waitress/cook in a shitty fucking restaurant that treats you like shit, because people do that all the time. But when your roomate, who's done all that she can to help you fit into Richmond, gets you a kick-fucking-ass job at the coolest record store, introduces you to tons of cool people & potential band mates, is the manager at the time...you don't have the maturity & decency to be like, "Hey it's not really working out. Let me finish out my schedule, and then I quit."
So it's bad enough that he walks out on a job and screws us for several shifts...but he disappears afterward. Doesn't return my call. Takes his dying rat with him. And for 2 and a half days, he's disappeared. He text messages my best friend however. Says, "I'm fine. Don't wanna talk. Tell Dee". How shitty is that?
How do I know that if he walks out on a job like that, that he won't skip out on rent as well. Oh, and by the way, his mom paid his rent for him last month.
Shows up last night after 10pm. I'm like,
"Uh, hi? How are you?"
"Fine." He replies.
"Are you lying to me? Are you sure you're fine?" I ask.
"Well, it's all relative. So, I guess," he says.
"Do you want to talk?"
"Not really."
"Ok. When you are. I'm here."
So then he continues to bullshit with me about my weekend, my cat...I give him short answers. Try to avoid him-because obviously, he doesn't want to talk. He wants to be left alone. Right? I go about cleaning, making dinner (because I forgot a fork when I came to the 'Boo last night, and NoControl wouldn't bring me one.
). And I sit down on the couch to continue watching my Legacy Editions, so far I've watched all the Dracula's, and the Frankenstein's, onto the Wolfman's. I call my boy up, and for a while my roomate just sits in his room playing his guitar. I'm chatting, watching the movie, eating, doing some organizing stuff. And he comes out, grabs a bag of chips and sits down and watches with me. Try's talking to me when I'm obviously on the phone. Jokes with me one more time about me selling "The Fist" at work last night. I fall asleep on the couch watching the movie, and just go to bed.
So basically, he just re-appeared, acting like nothing happened. If he doesn't come to me in a couple days, I'm going to him, and being like WTF? Something is obviously wrong. I'm your friend first, then your roomate, and I want to help you talk it out. You owe yourself that. You owe it to yourself to get help because obviously, the therapy and meds arent' working. I fucking hate therapy and meds by the way. I was very very much depressed and in a bad place a couple years ago, and I brought myself out of it, with my own mind, and the help of a few good friends. That's what I want him to do. I want him to right himself. Not expect people, or a therapist, or medications to do it for him. That's not how people get better. I'm dissappointed. He's let himself down. And he needs to pick himself back up.
Because if he's not ready to be independent, and get better, he should move back home with his mom, because my friend Kori desperately needs a place to live.
And this, my friends, is my living situation right now.
If it's not ceilings falling in on me, it's crazy roomates.
Someone help!
Today it's 60's GoGo Dancer.
It's hot.
So I think my roomate needs help. I knew him when I lived in Blacksburg. I moved away, he stayed, then he moved in with his mom in Williamsburg. Said he hated it. Wanted to move. He moves here with me. Says he's in therapy & on meds. I don't exactly know why. He seems like any other sappy-emo-feel-bad-for-me-type. OK fine. I've been depressed before...so I got him a job at Plan9. He worked at the Radio Station with me at VaTech. He knows a lot about music. He works like 4 shifts in 2 weeks. Thinks my boyfriend hates him (who works at the 9 too). Gets upset when we tell him how to work there. Doesn't take criticism, uh, at all. Gets frustrated. Takes a lot of cigarette breaks to cool off. Almost lets his pet rat die of a mysterious brain tumor. Gets over-emo about the rat. Comes in to work on Saturday. Extra-emo. Asks if he can go on break at roughly 12:30. I say, I guess so (I'm manager on duty). We usually don't go on break till after 2 or 3 just because it gets busy, and we have to make sure there's enough people there. He clocks out. Leaves. An hour passes. Hour and a half. Two. Three and a half hours pass. We've called him once. No answer on the cell phone. We leave a message. My boss finds note hiding in office on the fax machine. Note says basically, "Sorry this is not working out. I quit. Sorry for the short notice. I don't fit in. You'd be better off with someone else."
WTF?
You don't just up and walk out on a job in the middle of your shift, unless you're a waitress/cook in a shitty fucking restaurant that treats you like shit, because people do that all the time. But when your roomate, who's done all that she can to help you fit into Richmond, gets you a kick-fucking-ass job at the coolest record store, introduces you to tons of cool people & potential band mates, is the manager at the time...you don't have the maturity & decency to be like, "Hey it's not really working out. Let me finish out my schedule, and then I quit."
So it's bad enough that he walks out on a job and screws us for several shifts...but he disappears afterward. Doesn't return my call. Takes his dying rat with him. And for 2 and a half days, he's disappeared. He text messages my best friend however. Says, "I'm fine. Don't wanna talk. Tell Dee". How shitty is that?
How do I know that if he walks out on a job like that, that he won't skip out on rent as well. Oh, and by the way, his mom paid his rent for him last month.
Shows up last night after 10pm. I'm like,
"Uh, hi? How are you?"
"Fine." He replies.
"Are you lying to me? Are you sure you're fine?" I ask.
"Well, it's all relative. So, I guess," he says.
"Do you want to talk?"
"Not really."
"Ok. When you are. I'm here."
So then he continues to bullshit with me about my weekend, my cat...I give him short answers. Try to avoid him-because obviously, he doesn't want to talk. He wants to be left alone. Right? I go about cleaning, making dinner (because I forgot a fork when I came to the 'Boo last night, and NoControl wouldn't bring me one.
). And I sit down on the couch to continue watching my Legacy Editions, so far I've watched all the Dracula's, and the Frankenstein's, onto the Wolfman's. I call my boy up, and for a while my roomate just sits in his room playing his guitar. I'm chatting, watching the movie, eating, doing some organizing stuff. And he comes out, grabs a bag of chips and sits down and watches with me. Try's talking to me when I'm obviously on the phone. Jokes with me one more time about me selling "The Fist" at work last night. I fall asleep on the couch watching the movie, and just go to bed.
So basically, he just re-appeared, acting like nothing happened. If he doesn't come to me in a couple days, I'm going to him, and being like WTF? Something is obviously wrong. I'm your friend first, then your roomate, and I want to help you talk it out. You owe yourself that. You owe it to yourself to get help because obviously, the therapy and meds arent' working. I fucking hate therapy and meds by the way. I was very very much depressed and in a bad place a couple years ago, and I brought myself out of it, with my own mind, and the help of a few good friends. That's what I want him to do. I want him to right himself. Not expect people, or a therapist, or medications to do it for him. That's not how people get better. I'm dissappointed. He's let himself down. And he needs to pick himself back up.
Because if he's not ready to be independent, and get better, he should move back home with his mom, because my friend Kori desperately needs a place to live.
And this, my friends, is my living situation right now.
If it's not ceilings falling in on me, it's crazy roomates.
Someone help!
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When was I supposed to come to Plan 9 again?