We Have A Hard Rock Cafe Rag Now

So I was going outside to the back deck, either to help close the door or just step out for some fresh air.  I was looking down, either to change shoes or because I was spacing out.  There was a rag down there, a white one, folded in on itself.  My parents rarely throw things away, especially when it comes to, uh, fabric that is there just to pick up dust and food particles or to be stepped on.  I thus wasn't going to think anything of it ... until I noticed that there were words on this rag.

And the words were ... "LAS VEGAS."  In a font that I recognize instantly: It's my Hard Rock Cafe shirt.  I unfolded it to see holes in much of the front, and a slightly ripped and frayed collar.

I didn't flip out.  In fact, I'm not mad.  I hope that I don't have a reason to be mad.  I collect Hard Rock shirts.  I have dozens, many of them going back decades, and I continually wear them, and so they naturally start to get beat up, if not torn up.  Therefore I can imagine a t-shirt getting so bad that, as My Father is washing my clothes (he's retired and has nothing else to do), he could make the executive decision to turn that t-shirt into a rag.

The only problem I have is that I cannot recall ever noticing holes or wear on my HRC LV tee.  I never thought to myself, "Shoot, you're so old I might need to get a new one."  I could be wrong; maybe I didn't notice.  But I wouldn't like it if Father decided to render a t-shirt useless that had little to nothing wrong with it.

I'll let it slide.  Hey, he could have just thrown it away.  In that case, there would be a good chance I would not have noticed that I lost my HRC LV t-shirt.  Now, I just have to go to the Hard Rock in Las Vegas and buy me a new one.  I'm a grown man, I have some money -- I can afford to do that.

See, the problem is that all day, I've been dreading meeting up with That Cunt starting on Tuesday, and I was hoping that talking with my boss about it would assuage my fears.  But that hasn't happened since I have been trying to meet with him since Tuesday and have been stymied, and so dread has been all I've been feeling for a week.  Sure, maybe what he would have told me would have not helped me at all.  But being stuck in limbo hasn't been good, either.

Maybe I'm just mad that I'm back to full-time.

Addendum To: Addendum To: Addendum To: Will No One Hear My Cries?

That Bitch was there again yesterday!  She's sidling up everywhere!  I set up a time to talk to my boss just before I had to leave for the day, but I was so afraid she was, like, coming up from the bathroom while I started to talk to my boss that I decided to bag the meeting.  (I got real busy too.)  I postponed till Monday, where I don't think she works, but knowing my like she would just be popping in on that day just to fucking foil my plans again.

There might be a reason that she just stayed around and didn't go home.  My boss told me that work has indeed picked up and thus I and people in a similar position as I will be back full-time starting Monday.  Too bad for me; I have already planned a car service, a session with my therapist, and a haircut for next week.  It may not look good to beg out of working 40 Hours next week, but I think he'll understand.  Well, he might not (and hopefully this doesn't impinge on him listening to my side of the story, aka the truth), but I could foresee a predicament like this coming -- an abrupt change to my work schedule when I had already made plans during what would be my workday -- and I don't feel obligated to change it now.  I'll go 40 the week after.

Beyond that, however, I will miss part-time.  I didn't deal with the change that well when we were shifted to 20 per seven weeks ago.  But I have to be honest: I came to love just popping in for four Hours each day, getting up later than usual, and having much of the afternoon all to myself.  And dammit, I loved getting unemployment and an extra $600 on top of it every week, too!  And now that's gone, and now I have to be there for 8 1/2 Hours every day, and I get to try and take a nap in my car during a hot summer's day, and I get to get tired in the middle of my day, and I get to be around That Cunt a third of my day. ...

Operation Haircut Is A Go ... I Think

I did some location scouting yesterday/Thursday, a day I had off according to my boss.  I spent the day fucking ****e, but I also went back down to a park close by ****e's place to see a park that had a shelter with a bench and an outlet so I could get a haircut from ****e* in a public, ventilated place.  I was there at this park once before, but I forgot to snap pictures the first time, and I wanted to show ****e* photos of the shelter to see if she's OK with it, and to give her images of what to look for if she drives over to this park so she won't get lost.

Barbershops can open in Minnesota, albeit at a low capacity, starting on Monday.  I figured I'd wait until then to get my hair cut because I think my parents would get freaked out before haircutting places were allowed to open (and thus risk getting the virus under auspices that were "illegal), even though I had told my folks already "my friend" would only cut my hair somewhere outside, so we wouldn't have to wait until salons opened.  Well, for dinner yesterday Mother noticed my long hair and suggested Father could cut it.  "He cut mine!" she said, and you know, I noticed Wednesday that both of my parents' hair seemed a little shorter than I remembered it.  I guess they cut each other's hair.  And frankly, they didn't do a too-bad job.  But I ultimately declined Mother volunteering Father because 1) ****e* is trained in cutting hair and 2) I don't want my parents getting anywhere close to my head.  I hope I don't regret this decision when they die.

Well, since my parents already got their hair cut, I no longer feel as though I have to wait, even though I might as well wait until next week, which is after the June 1 re-opening of barbershops.  Last/Thursday night I sent ****e* pictures of the park and shelter, and she gave her OK.  She was even enthusiastic about giving me a stylish hair cut, even though I just want a buzz cut.

But, and maybe you think about this from time to time, I spaced out my tweets.  I'm guessing people text almost (but not quite) like they talk, with no gaps inbetween.  Sometimes I do, sometimes I don't.  This time I didn't because I 1) wanted to be on the Internet and 2) was looking at my city go up in flames because of The Floyd Riots.  You can drag the text menu a bit to the right and you'll see timestamps, the times when a text was sent.  And while ****e* was doing a great job immediately replying to my texts (and the photos of my long hair, which she requested!), I did not.  I took 13 Minutes before I replied to her.  She took four Minutes to text back.  And then I took 31 Minutes to get back to ****e*, asking if she can cut my hair next week.  I sent that text just before midnight.  And she hasn't given me a reply.

I feel as though she was waiting for me to get back to her, and because I was taking longer to get back to her, she just gave up.  I feel sad about that, even though I think -- I hope -- she'll just get back to me tomorrow.  Should've been more prompt.  Think I disappointed her.

Addendum To: Addendum To: Will No One Hear My Cries?

So my plan was that if my boss was there, I would, some time later in my shift but hopefully before he leaves, that I would quietly discuss what happened Saturday and how I did not like how my supervisor came at me.

He was there.  But so was she!  How in the hell is That Bitch working when I'm working?!  I'm working afternoons this week while she's still stuck in the morning, and yet I saunter in and she (and a bunch of others) are still there!  I wait till 1 and I go back to my desk ... and she's still there!  And she was the only one there, too!  And guess what?  It was 2 o'clock and still was fucking there!!  Goddammit, she blew up my whole fucking plan!!!

Well, my boss looked really busy, too, so I don't think I would have had a chance to speak with him even if she weren't around.  But this is another day that goes by without me speaking my piece.  I'm off today, so tomorrow/Friday is it.  Otherwise, I will have no time to talk to him before I'll be working with That Bitch again next week, and I'm afraid she'll take another dig at me, which means I'll have to fight back by digging back at her, and shit will just escalate, and my boss won't know how in the hell this bullshit all started.

Goddammit! Day 1 Again!

And now I'm back down to Day 1 with the slot machine in Texas Hold 'Em again.  I swear I pulled that slot yesterday/Tuesday ... or, maybe I didn't.  Maybe I got too caught up watching the news about George Floyd.  But since this has happened several times the past several months, maybe, well, I really just don't care.

The thing that bothers me about this, and I know this doesn't make any sense, is that I know will have to make that fucking week-long climb to Day 7/400% once again, and that week, obviously next week, will overlap with me going back to work and seeing That Cunt who disrespected me, when our schedules overlap again.  Why does that overlapping bother me?  Don't know.

And the thing is, I care that I've lost my streak now, but once (if?) I get back to Day 7/400%, I probably will stop caring and I'll miss a day, again.

Addendum To: Will No One Hear My Cries?

I was ready to go talk to my boss about the crazy-ass supervisor.  I used what I talked about with my therapist to arrange my thoughts.  And then I discovered that he wasn't going to be in yesterday.

(He actually did come in because my co-worker wasn't able to key stuff.  He came in, but soon it became clear that it was an IT issue.)

So the earliest I can talk to him about it is today/Wednesday, which isn't ideal.  For one thing, this gives me another day to puss out of talking to him.  But also, That Bitch starts work today.  If she is upset about what happened Saturday as I'm afraid she is, she could connive and talk to him before I come into work this afternoon.  In other words, she might be able to set the narrative in my boss' head, and so I would have to fight that.

---

My psychotherapist gave me advice on how to talk about this with my boss, but he also gave me this motto that actually resonates with me: The less vulnerable I feel, the less angry I'll feel.  I want to remember that.

Will No One Hear My Cries?

What if my boss doesn't respect my feelings?
What if he doesn't believe me?
What if he blames me instead of her?
What if I lose my composure and babble to the point of incoherence?
What if I lose my nerve and decide I don't "need" to speak to him at all?

I get to talk to my therapist in the morning, and this time, I'll have a hell of a lot to talk about.

Knowing me and my luck, there will be a huge bombshell that comes in the morning, pertaining to work or happening outside it, that will force me to forget how traumatizing this situation is.

The only saving grace is that I doubt I'll have to see that cunt this week.  Next week, however. ...

Oh, by the way, I've been so upset by what she said to me that I've been wanting to throw anything, and I mean anything, around my room just to act out my anger.  I haven't done it, thankfully, but that bitch has been on my mind all weekend.  I let her live in my head rent-free, goddammit.  I tried meditation this weekend, once, but it didn't help.

Maybe talking about it with my psychologist will help.  If not, maybe complaining to my boss will.  Or, maybe not.

So I wanted to enjoy my first Sunday out of the house (because of work) and I decided to try out some BBQ.  It was OK, although the pulled pork I got clumped together.  (Is pulled pork supposed to clump together?  I assumed it wouldn't.)  Add that I had two pieces of cornbread and a cup of dill-flavored potato salad, and that I washed it down with Orange Vanilla Coke that I bought at the gas station before I got to the barbecue place.

(Oh, by the way, when I got to the BBQ place, my meal was already ready.  I don't like that.  It makes me wonder how long it has been sitting around.)

Didn't think my parents would have egg rolls waiting for me to eat.  Should have thought they would set something up since it's a holiday.  And then I drank a tallboy of Guinness later that evening.

When I was at ****e's a couple weeks ago I weighed myself, completely naked, and it told me I weighed 161.  I haven't been that skinny in years.  And I still don't believe it; I've been doing nothing except being at home, and somehow I've lost weight?  Well, I won't have to worry about it now, since I probably put on a bunch of extra pounds the past two days and pack a few more by tonight.

Now I Have A REAL Problem At Work

OK, so there was this co-worker who's now my supervisor, the one I thought was a bitch, then wasn't, then (maybe) was again and then (maybe) was not again?  Well, after how she treated me yesterday, she's a complete bitch -- a cunt even -- and she can't come back from that.

She has a penchant of, uh, jokingly complaining about someone.  She frequently says something to the effect of, "(insert name here) broke the computer again!"  She actually said it in the morning.  But a bit after that, after talking to the co-worker next to me, she muttered my name, and for what, I don't remember.  And I thought she was joking, like usual, so I said something not worth remembering back to her.  But she shot back: "I need to see if you're going to pull your weight."

Uh, excuse me?  I don't know what the hell she's talking about.  But I got blindsided that she came back at me with an insult like that.  That means that she isn't joking.  All I could do was stammer out something to the effect of, "We'll see about that," after the window for clever comebacks closed, if you know what I mean.

OK, so I'm already thinking that I need to raise this with my boss.  But she destroyed any chance we could have a workable relationship at the end of the day ... and it was my fault, even though I still don't really know what happened.  What I know is that there was a folder and there were applications that were missing, but ever since our hours were cut, I have seen that many times.  Now, I don't quite remember what happens in those cases, but I do know that I didn't want to speak to her, and usually when I do raise something to her, she says it's nothing.  So I thought it was nothing.  So I passed it through.

Ah, yeah, that was a big mistake.  On her way out, she was pissed at me.  Paraphrasing: "You know that folder you sent through?  There were, like, dozens of forms missing.  Why did you pass it through?  Why didn't you tell me?!"

So, what do you say to someone after you fucked up big time, but who passive-aggressively made an unfair accusation to your face a few hours before and now was walking away from you after shooting a look of disgust beneath her surgical mask?  You scream, "Sorry!  Have a nice weekend!" at her back with as much sarcasm as you can.  And I didn't have to wait a beat to think it up.  Now that's what you call a comeback!!!

Maybe I should have done better with that folder, to put it mildly.  But when her feelings for me aren't that great to begin with, and she told me as much, and her reasons for it are bullshit, I really don't have too many fucks to give ... even though I've been thinking about her behavior toward me ever since I got home.  Man, this water off a duck's back mindset I just cannot do. ...

So yeah, I really need to talk about this to my boss now.  He needs to know that if my supe wants to start a passive-aggressive war of insults, she'll fucking get one.  I have a right to stand up for myself.