I WANT to love you.... but I NEED you to stop being an asshole...

For all of you (meaning the one person who knows about this) that just got comfortable and settled in for some good dirt on me and McFly- well... you are in luck because he is included.. HOWEVER this post applies to more than one person, place, or thing in my life.

Recruiters:

With the exception of one recruiter, what is the deal?!?!?!? If I apply to a post regarding a specific position... that position should exist. If my resume, credentials, references and business suit wearing ass exists, then the job should have to exist!. Don't call me in (i.e. make me put on a suit) if you have NOTHING for me. It is a waste of my time AND YOURS. Also, please do not try to jam me in a position that is not a good fit for me or the company and ask me to just hold out until you get your bonus for placing me, and then you will find me something better. Ummmm... that would be a hell to the naw. I don't have the temperment for that and I will be hard to place after stabbing an employer in the eye all because you wanted that bonus.

Apartment Manager to the left of my humble abode:

Dude. You seemed like a nice guy. You rode in on your wheelchair ready to do a crackhead sweep. I will never forget the day I watched you jump out of the wheelchair to let the crackhead know it was all a ruse and you would whoop his crackheaded crack. I don't know how you could be so comfortable so close to open sores, but you let him know that you were willing to haz-mat yourself and show him who was running that bitch. When it turned out the smokers had swooped in and hooked your girl, you put her to the curb and kept it wheeling. I was PROUD of you. We had a few convos and you told me to let you know if there were ANY issues with your tenants. You put out the worst.. and then you let some more move in! What the hell. It was then that I noticed after the conversation with me, you were having conversations with yourself. Who cusses out the ice cream man when he isn't around. It's like the faintest Mr. Softee jingle gives you tourettes. Side note: Mr. Ice Cream Man: the WHOLE neighborhood knows you are selling weed out of the truck. Watch yourself.

hmmm- on to family...

Mama: For the first time ever... you need to save your own life. I can't do it. I'm not going to do it. and if you don't want to do it, why the hell should I? Them shakes ain't the shivers. Nuff said.

McFly: You sir.... need to stop waking me up in the middle of the night because something about the way I am snoring and drooling on my pillow, has got you feelin some type of way. I have NEVER been a wake me up in the middle of the night type of girl. I am game pretty much anytime except when I am asleep. And to top it off you don't even have the courtesy to come right and proper with your moves because middle of the night sex is like saturday late night after club hours food. You just want it warm, fast, and you don't care what it tastes like. I call bullshit. If you can't sleep, take your ass to Jack in the box. Keep your jack out my box.

And last but not least...

Dell: If my hands are nowhere near the mousepad, then my cursor should not move. I have resorted to typing with my hands curled over the keyboard and my elbows out. I could totally break into that move they do in the thriller video with way my hands are held. I can't even adress it further because typing this on your suck ass BRAND NEW bullshit self has flared my damn carpal tunnel up. Fucker.

Someone get me a coke...

P.S.: To my girl.... you can do it. Grab those boards by the throat and make them your bitch.

I NEED to lose weight... But I WANT coke dammit!!!! Why must Coca~Cola be my crack.

I mean at least the real coke would help me lose weight. This one just teases me with it's ice cold can and sugary goodness. I am a slave to it, I tell you! Everytime I open the fridge, I hear Calle Ocho by Pitbull.. "you know want me..." (there is more to that sentece, but it's reggaeton and I have to make it up because seriously, I don't think that is even spanish).

I had heard that your metabolism drops as you get older. Like a fuckin rock. and it's tryin to take my ass and boohbahs right along with it... So what is a girl who forged a dr.s note through four years of high school to avoid PE to do? Join a gym, of course.

Insert fiasco here.

I HATE hate HATE the gym. Despise the smell, the look, the people. It's like the goodwill to me, I shudder when I go in... (there is nothing wrong with the goodwill per se, it just gives me bad childhood memories- that goodwill smell causes flashbacks)

Soooo. I don't know how to operate the weight machines, I don't have enough stamina to run on the treadmill- I mean I could, but I always end up looking like a fish out of water gasping for air and flopping around.

What's a girl to do.... Group Fitness! Zumba! Surely I can ZUMBA. You Tube it- embedding video is way past beginner blogger skills. I used to dance. DANCE. Dance. I can ZUMBA, dammit!

I can't Zumba.

Someone get me a coke.

I WANT to keep everything here titled in the Needs vs. Wants format- however I NEED and WANT to share random conversations with my 3 year old.

Conversations with my 3 year old, or with my two year old will be a regular feature. Hopefully, it will be the only time I ever break from the wants vs. needs. Everyone Needs a gimmick....

For security purposes, we shall call them princess (3yr old), and prince (2yr old), unless it is a combined effort from them and then I shall just refer to them as Crash Test Dummies.

Mommy: Princess, why are you getting on my nerves? Prince isn't getting on mommy's nerves.

Princess: Well mommy, me and prince are taking turns.

I WANT to get some sleep, but I NEED you to get the hell off of me first.

Ladies and Gentlemen, welcome to my blog. It's about sex and unemployment. For unemployment see below- for sex stay right here. Please note- it's not porn, it's a complaint form.

I appreciate the effort you have put forth recently. It's good, better than it has been in a minute. We been rollin together for 11 years- it happens. I must admit when you came ambling over smelling of beer, I figured I was in for the usual Saturday night special- and as you know- I was none to excited at the prospect. I believe my first comment was " you have a hangnail". But alas, it was not to be- I must have been looking extra fine in my heather gray old navy nightie- you know the one- it screams comfort with a tad bit o'lace trim to say I am not completely sloppy.... because you put forth a mighty effort baby- and I love you for it.

However-

After ____ times, a lady gets tired and sore. No fun no more. After a while, it doesn't matter what circus acts you are puttin on, I'm good. Again, please don't think I am knocking the extra special shake you put in your shimmy, mama was just done. P.s. Nice way to use the shadows. Yeah, I saw that.

Unemployed sex is nice. You don't have to get up in the morning.

I WANT to tell unemployment to go to hell. I NEED someone to answer the phone first.

Today marks the 9th day I have wasted T-mobile minutes (that I haven't paid for and will soon be cut off from- thanks EDD!) trying to get someone on the phone at the unemployment department. I know some of you are saying 9 days- that's nothing, and according to some of the horror stories, it really is nothing... but I am an impatient bitch and this is about me.

If you need help answering the phones, let me know. I need a job. I am about to dial in the vietnamese line and make strange noises until you ask me something in English and then I will yell aha! and force you to speak with me.

Instead, I utilized your email system. Which sucks as well. But doesn't have 30 minutes of infomercials for EDD that you sit through-press a button and die by disconnection- Then- after starting over, listen to you tell me things I already know again for 30 minutes BECAUSE BELIEVE ME I CHECKED ONLINE BEFORE CALLING.. before electrobitch say too many people want to talk to me so you will have to starve, go without electricity, and lose your house. Please try again later. Goodbye. Insert automated snicker here.

I can't believe that I have paid into this system for the last 15 plus years. If you are looking for money from me, you can dial me 32 times a day, call my mother, family and friends, send me nasty letters and scar my credit history so that when I do manage to score a job, I fail the credit check and they rescind their offer- but when I am looking for money from you, you are unavailable like that "friend" who owes me a cool grand. Side note: "friend"- I want my money. and people on welfare- where I am soon to be- get to sue for free because court fees are waived for broke folks- so watch out- ... I digress....

5 days later, I get a response. Umm- Dear Unemployed with hungry children, you worked a TEMP job, and even though you reported your earnings right and proper, (don't ever not do this, you will regret- even if you had to do it because it was lie or lose your home) we determined you made to much for the month and suspended your claim.... even though we KNOW the job was temporary, please go back to start. PS. We are sorry you were unaware but we would have told you if you would have called in to ask.

Where did I go wrong? This shit is like calling 911 and being put on hold.