Its Not The Way I Want It – Awkward Fracktardery

My life, that is.

This is about to be an extremely short and whiny rant.

I stop, or argue with my family and friends, because you know, by now I should be married right? At least once? And screw me saying that I want to do it once and right, even though that’s the truth. It’s kinda now “Have another baby, or get married, or do something dang-it!”

Because my life has turned into: work, Monster Teen quality time, church, internet surfing, rinse and repeat. My phobias of crowds and talking to people outside of work has gotten worse. I don’t know how to interact, without sounding like an awkward fracktard. What do you do in this situation? Because I seriously feel like I’m turning into my mother. After my parents separated, she had one doomed to fail relationship. It went so badly that she didn’t date for over 10 years. She swamped herself in work, family, and church.

And here I am, following along the same water slide without a way to stop the speed. It’s not like it’s all about relationships. I even have trouble making friends outside the office and internets. I want to do more, but I have no one to do it with. All my friends are married or in serious relationships. I’ve surrounded myself with what I want, but still cannot get it.

How do I reach in and pick myself out of a slump like this? I feel like I’m sinking.


Apologies Taste Salty; Am I a Flaky Heffa?

Okay, another weekend came. And by God I planned to get out of the house! And this time I did. Yay! But it doesn’t always happen that way.

I have a bad habit of letting life just pass me by sometimes. Not because I want to, but just because the world outside is so daggone DRAINING. I’m a hardcore introvert. I hate crowds, I’m uncomfortable in large groups unless I have some trusted friends along that I know will not leave all alone to my awkward lonesome. My personality is pretty much like Grumpy Bear.

But I do like to go out and have fun. I swear!

It’s just, well Fridays, after dealing with all my fake smiling and caring and listening, and trying to be “with the group”, I usually feel like run over dog poop… That may have sitting in the sun all week-long, baking. So a couple of weekends ago while I was still thinking about going out on another date with “Mr. Pleasant Online, but just Meh in Person”… All the plans I had were cancelled from just being worn out. And he, well, I was called a flake. And at first I laughed about it, but then got quite irritated.

I mean, I’ve got science to back me up: introverts need re-charging. After a week of teaching and smiling so I don’t have to hear “what’s wrong? Are you okay?” Every five seconds, I need time in my dimensionthe5th cave. Even the Monster Teen can sometimes fall into irritating territory. I’ll try not to, but will tune him out when he wants Mommy time, and tells me long drawn out stories about school and friends. I feel bad, because at those times, I could seriously not care about anything coming out of his mouth and just wish he would STOP TALKING.

So, it’s not like I actively say I’m going to flake out on friends. I just get too daggone overwhelmed and want quiet time. Quiet time and being out at a bar, or even over someone else’s house does not equal the same thing.

So mister pleasant and meh got dropped. He can deal with someone less flakey. Not like he was getting to see my giggles and bits anytime soon anyway. Pfffft.

Here’s Another Dribble of Poetry: Stalemate

Again, here’s a bit of poetry that I’m not sure I want people who know me to know about. Just a-writing out my frustrations with relationships. Pffft, I mean the absence of relationships.


By dimensionthe5th

I play a game in my head
Where I’m not gun-shy
Or unafraid of getting my feelings trampled
Even though I can barely make eye-contact
Without stuttering when it comes to attraction

I play a game
That I am confident in my romantic thoughts
When it’s more bumbling cowardice
You never know until you try
But over the years…
Trying has become so hard
Bloody inside emotions
Battered, never completely healing

My heart may never again be
Pure and Green like a spring blooming

It wants what it wants
But doesn’t want the hassle
The trial and error
The re-dos
Of feeling out the other hearts motivation
Of hoping not to go down in the flames of lust, love, and like

Can’t live without it,
But can’t live with more disappointment
So instead
A miserable stalemate rules

Is that Your HooHah Hair?! Weird Office Living Pet Peeves

Random things irritate me. If you’ve read other posts of mine, you’ve realized that. But today, little things in the office seemed to combine and transform themselves like Voltron into a day of constant irritation. Soooo, onto the list of things that for some reason drive me batty at work:

1. Restroom Light Warriors.

Okay, look, I know we need to practice light conservation and all, but there are 3 stalls in the restroom closest to my office, and students and staff constantly going in and out all throughout the day (not my ninja restroom: see here: About 3 times a week, I walk in and someone has turned off the light. Why does this bother me? Because I’ve watched enough weird and scary movies that I expect to find a dead body. Most likely a student of mine, after I’ve told them why they suck.

2. Over the Shoulder Ninjas.

I used to have a real office, with a door and all at my last office. Now I have a cubicle. And I absolutely HATE people who like to sit there and look over your shoulder for a while before they let you know they are there. It doesn’t matter if I’m doing work, or reading an article on why the Song of Ice and Fire series is sexist. I have deployed multiple times and I may become violent at any time. And since I’m sitting, you may get punch in your twig or hoo-hah. Keep messing with me -_-

3. Bubble breakers.

Seriously, if we are really cool, by all means sit close to me. I still may say that you are in my frackin personal space. But if I don’t know you all that well, why the frack are we within kissing distance of each other?! I mean face on! Turn to the side or something so I don’t feel like I’m getting breath particles. I don’t know where your mouth has been. I’m a smoker, so I know better than to waft my smoky breath right at people. But unless you are brushing after every meal, dude, I don’t need to see your leftover meal on your teeth in 4d.

4. Toilet Shedders.

Oh my god, the many NSFW work photos I went through by typing in pubic hair. WTF was I thinking?

Okay yes, I have a serious issue with restroom everything it seems. But have you ever went into a stall, about to sit down and see secret lady fur atop the seat? *Shudder* I mean, I may trim the lady bush, but any straggler hair goes down the shower drain. Why are the ladies shedding like my cat sheds on my carpet?! And why are you not at least trimming that bad boy between your legs, because that hair is LONG. I mean, are you growing out an afro? Planning to get dreads with beads all dangling? Why are they falling out all over the toilet? Are you balding down there? I really don’t like focusing on other women’s ladies parts, but this is becoming a huge concern for me.

Other than that, I really like my office. The people are really weird just like me. But I swear if this Pubic Conspiracy continues I will take photos and post pics saying “Have You seen the Owner of these curlies? Please come and pick them up in Stall 3.

This Curvy Chick Hisses at Donuts like a Vampire with Holy Water

I’ve lost about 10 pounds in a week. No, it was not completely in a healthy way, frack you very much.

Sorry, that’s hunger talking. I’m straight Hangry here.

If you’ve never been around the military, there’s one thing that you know: we’re not allowed to get fat. I know you’re probably saying “I’ve seen PLENTY of tubby troops, looking like they’re about to try out for the Biggest Loser.” Well, all I can say is many slip through the cracks, mostly because their leadership is not putting a boot up their hey-nanny-nanny to get fit. Also, a lot of us are just broken from deployments.

And that’s what’s had me depressed and frustrated. I’ve been on a no upper body workout for the past couple of months and loads of pain killers. Certain painkillers cannot be taken on an empty stomach. Which means I was barely working out from pain, and eating a lot of food. Especially a lot of unhealthy food. I guess you can’t help but to get fat if you are having a slice of pound cake as a “quick breakfast”.

And then, you go to the doc, get a height and weight done, and find out you’re about the same size you were when you were pregnant with the Monster Teen. It makes you get on that pity train faster than the hounds of hell after you.

But I’ve been in the military for years, and understood what I needed to do. Cut out all deserts. Cut out pastas and bread. Fruits and veggies meals with only a small portion of protein for one meal a day. Cardio for at least 45 minutes a day with a trip to the sauna for at least 15 minutes afterward. And the unhealthy stuff: double dose of green coffee pills and raspberry K each day. And fiber pills each day, along with a water pill. On top of that, loads and loads of water to keep me hydrated.

It makes for a grouchy DT5th. I growled at people who had cupcakes the other day. I seriously blanked out and had a honey bun in my hand from my pantry the other day. I was getting ready to leave for work, and the stupid thing was there. I gasped and threw it back on the shelf, running before the fat girl personality inside me took over again and grabbed the honey bun. I think I really may have a split personality right now!

I dream of donuts, and cake loaded with icing. Milkshakes. Fully loaded potatoes with sour cream and butter and salt. Oh my. The office had donuts the other day. The smell of them had tears pricking my eyes. My coworkers saw as I whimpered and tried not to breathe, moved the donuts from my sight, and then waved folders to try to get the smell out the area.

I’m gritting my teeth with hunger, even when I just had a huge bowl of spinach. Fatgirl DT5th says it’s not enough food. It wants some pasta!

Pray for me readers of these interwebs. I feel like I’m a step away from the Stephen King short story where the man stranded starts eating himself. Fatgirl DT5th wants to gnaw on my arm.
I may need an exorcism and some pound cake after this next weigh-in. Before I turn full on crazy and gnaw on someone like I’m on Bath Salts.

Argh!!! Customer Service Idiots Strike Again!!!

Seriously, this just happened. And it’s why I’ve always hated to talk on the phone, especially to customer service. Because even if English is their first language you’d think they were from another frackin planet.

So, I’m trying to make an appointment for my son at the local base clinic. Every base clinic has an appointment line. But for the monster teen’s behavioral health appointments, I have to call the main line, and then ask to be connected to Pediatrics. Well, I call the main line. And of course even though I’m number frackin 1 in the queue, I wait like 10 minutes listening to the worst musak EVER. It’s like Star Wars porn music.

After wasting years of my life in the span of 10 minutes (and feeling awkward about the wookies in my head) I finally get answered and explain the whole situation, get forwarded to pediatrics and only get out “I’d like to make an appointment -”

Lady: “oh, let me transfer you! *Click* sends me back to the main line.



*Looks at phone ready to commit murder*

*Star Wars porn music begins to play again* Oh my sweet baby Jesus skateboarding. Are. You. Kidding. Me?!?!

The SAME operator answers after 15 minutes this time, and I explain to her what happened. “Oh, yeah, it happens all the time with that office.” Really? Then shouldn’t they get someone more competent to man the phone lines? I mean, I know the government is getting tight on the money, let’s look at the people who can’t do the simple job of answering the phones correctly.

So main-line lady connects me again to Peds, and stays on the line to explain not to hang up on me. And, I will say the ditzy lady apologized profusely, but that wasted much of my hour lunch break.

Maybe I just expect too much of people. Or maybe I’d just rather have better musak porn while I’m on hold.