what if it's true?

know how some weeks it just seems like the universe is bound and determined to get your attention about something but you don't know WHY?

that's this week for me.

the what? domestic violence.

the why? fuck if i know.

i am a survivor of domestic violence. i left 12/13/2003 and never went back.

i have been away for a LONG time. and my...i don't know what to call it...scars? doesn't seem right because a scar indicates something that is completely healed and can't be opened back up again. but these wounds have sure as fuck been opened back up again.

i have a child support hearing next week. the case hasn't been touched since it was initially finalized as part of the divorce in 7/2004. there's a change in amounts around age 13, so i figured, why not, see if maybe there's a chance at getting some extra support to cover sports, clothes, school, all the things. especially since the teenager outgrows everything the minute the tag is off.

i'm terrified of the support hearing. i know that there's a VERY slim chance he'll fly up from whatever state he's in for the hearing. but i HATE going to court. it's like going to the principals office- even if I did nothing wrong it's still nerve wracking as fuck. and what if he does fly in? and what if he brings the wife with him? she's a hard core mean girl. i'm sure she's pissed as fuck that i filed. i'm sure she's shared it all over her social network what a money hungry bitch i am- she had ENDLESS things to say after the divorce about me. hell, she even SCREAMED at me once over the phone for talking to him every day and trying to get him back and spending all sorts of time with him. her screaming quieted down a bit i told her i didn't know who he was talking to on the phone or seeing, but i hadn't seen or hear from him in months.

i'm terrified of having to face either of them again. it's been 13 years and i'm still sick when i think about having to face his lies and truth twisting- ESPECIALLY in court where judges really don't care what's true (or at least they didn't in stevens county) and just want to get through all the cases for the day.

earlier this week on twitter there was a hashtag #MaybeHeDoesntHitYou about non-violent domestic violence. reading through all the different responses was HARD. so hard. it brought back way too much baggage and way too much pain that i thought i was over.

maybe he doesn't hit you but he isolates you from all your friends and family.
maybe he doesn't hit you but he destroys your credit
maybe he doesn't hit you but he shames every part of who you are
maybe he doesn't hit you but he tells you every day that he hates you and wants you gone
maybe he doesn't hit you but you wish he would because bruises heal faster than words
maybe he doesn't hit you but he constantly criticizes your clothes and make up
maybe he doesn't hit you but he reduces you to tears every change he gets
maybe he doesn't hit you but even the kids know to be quiet to not set him off
maybe he doesn't hit you when you try to talk about your feelings you end up crying and apologizing for being wrong
maybe he doesn't hit you...

the list goes on and on.

i remember being SCREAMED at for hours because i put green beans in the tater tot casserole.

i asked him to go play cards with friends one thanksgiving and he threatened to have the sheriff arrest me for kidnapping if i made him go.

i remember him calling me every. single. day. at work to make sure i was where i said i was.

i remember him checking the caller ID every night when he got home to see who i'd been talking to.

i remember him intentionally draining the bank account so i couldn't buy groceries.

i remember him opening credit cards in my name without my permission and racking up THOUSANDS of dollars.

i remember forcing myself to write in my journal on the bad days so that on the good days i wouldn't trick myself into thinking i'd made it all up.

i remember sleeping on the couch for 6 months because breastfeeding was disgusting and he didn't want it anywhere near him.

i wasn't allowed to ever have pineapple in the house because it was disgusting.


one little hashtag and i was right back in the house we lived in, back in the emotions, back in the fear.

the same day i was at my kiddos baseball game, minding my own business, and one of the other parents started to talk to me. i'm not social by nature, but she started a conversation and i won't be rude, so i chatted with her while the game drug on.

she told me about her abusive ex. and becoming a domestic violence lawyer. and i talked about my history. and again, i was right back there.

and for the last few days i've been stuck there. because that sound track is hard as fuck to turn off once it starts.

especially.

especially when it's true.

all those things he said to me? he wasn't wrong.

he told me no one else would want me.

13 years later i can't even get a date.

and he's still married to the second mistress.

he told me i was worthless.

13 years later he's making $140K a year without even a high school diploma and i'm having to ask the court (him) for more money to help make ends meet.

he told me no one would want to be around me.

i'm completely and totally alone. all the time.

how do you turn off the sound track? how do you convince yourself he's wrong when he wasn't?

and i don't know why this is all coming up. i don't know why this is the theme of the week. i don't know what i'm missing. i don't know what lesson i haven't learned yet. i don't know why i have to think about all this all over again.

there's something i need to see. there's something i need to figure out. but fuck if it isn't hard not to just wallow and be in pain. again. and i know i'm better than that. and i want to believe he was wrong, but i'm having a hard time convincing myself otherwise.

i'll keep looking. i'll keep sorting. i'll keep working through it. but what if at the end, it's just true?

a change will do you good?

you know those people that do something, every. single. day. for their whole adult life?

the guy that orders a pepperoni pizza every day at 5 (and then the pizza place employee saves the customers life after he notices the order didn't come in. true story).

the old man that has coffee at the same cafe every morning for 30 years.

the person that takes a picture every day for a full year.

the parents that plan ahead and have teachers write letters for their kids starting at kindergarten all the way through high school.

the people that have routine and structure and foresight.


FUCK THOSE PEOPLE.

no. seriously. how do you remember to call your sister every. single. day. at 8 pm? how do you have the money to stop at the same cafe every morning for years? how do you have the endurance to eat the same exact pizza every single day?

outside of the basics of hygeine, there is NOTHING that i can claim to do every day. and let's be really honest, there's some weekends even showering is optional. DON'T JUDGE. but things like exercise? ha ha ha ha ha. meditation. nope. reading the news? when i remember. visiting the same coffee shop? my budget is too...ahem...temperamental for that.

i do like routine, i do like familiar places, but i think i'm still pretty far from what would be deemed predictable or regular.

as inconsistent as i am though, i expect the rest of the world to pause and wait for me to pick up where i left off. AND THAT'S TOTALLY NOT UNREASONABLE. SHUT UP.

one of my favorite bar tenders packed up and moved out of town. BUT HE DIDN'T ASK ME FIRST. sure, i only manage to go out for a drink *maybe* once a month, BUT HE NEEDS TO ALWAYS BE THERE. how dare he have a life and goals and things outside being there for my comfort and familiarity? and now what do _I_ do (insert appropriate whining cry baby noises here). now i have to get used to a new bar tender, or, *gasp* find a new bar?? OH THE HUMANITY!

i don't deal well with things like this. i'm a creature of habit, as infrequent and scattered as those habits are. i'm the asshole that laments a store closed YEARS ago because i liked it and went to it a few times and always meant to go back. WHAT DO YOU MEAN MY ONE STOP THREE YEARS AGO WASN'T ENOUGH TO SUSTAIN THE BUSINESS??

one of the things i admire most in other people is their willingness to change and their ability to step out into new things. good friends packing up and selling their house in idaho to move to seattle with nothing more than an idea that there has to be something better. a bartender packing up his whole family to start a new business in a new town. people moving across states or countries for relationships. WHAT?? how is that even a thing? do you KNOW the risks involved?

i keep going back and forth about whether or not it's time for me to make some changes. maybe pack up everything and head to a new town? it's way too easy to talk myself out of it and into staying where i'm at in the comfortable and familiar, even if it is feeling like a favorite shirt i outgrew a few sizes ago (aka: my entire wardrobe). change jobs? but i have my order of things down here and i'm good at it and it's fluid and familiar.

just when i have myself convinced there's a whole wide world out there, a few things come together at home and i realize i like my little corner of the world and can't imagine leaving it behind. spring time is an especially persuasive sneaky bitch about this. why would you want to leave?? look how pretty and green the yard is! look how lovely the fruit trees are when they're in bloom! look how the house lights up when you open the curtains! why would you ever want to leave?? change jobs? but look how well those three things all worked out and how smoothly all that paperwork went through. and the stupid was at a moderate to low level this week. i can tolerate moderate to low.

one of the worst areas for me when it comes to change is people. i tend to have a nasty habit of dealing with change by disconnecting. one of my worst traits is not reaching out to people. i have forever wanted to be a better person about calling or sending cards or visiting. i buy stacks of cards that collect dust in bins. i intend to call but what do you SAY? i was not a chat-on-the-phone-for-hours teenager. traveling/visiting takes planning and budgeting and vacation time and i'm so worn out from all the excuse making that the actual traveling is just too much.

the last few weeks have been a lot of small changes happening and the idea of a few big ones lingering in the background. it's been stressful. one look at my face will tell you just how stressful. the teenager has been growing up and learning how to stand up for himself. he's been venturing a little further from the house at longer intervals. baseball at the school is now a standard instead of an occasional. "home by dark" shifts by a few minutes each day. he's not letting bullies push him around anymore, he talking back (and occasionally even fighting back). it's been cool to watch. i'm excited to see him grow and become. i don't remember the older one necessarily going through this...at least this pronounced. he started taking the city bus to school and started wanting to spend time "out" with friends but never quite showed the...growing up part of that. maybe i just missed it in the middle of all the fighting and anger and chaos that was happening.

today i had a job interview. i think it went well. but HOLY FUCK that would be a HUGE change. and i don't know if i'm ready for that. i mean...i like my job. i like my work. i'm good at what i do. i like my boss. i like the owner. not a fan of a chunk of my coworkers. but is that chunk enough to leave the comfortable, familiar that i'm GOOD at? it's hard! the ability to make the change is without question. talking to them today i know i could step in blindfolded and do the work they need done. but is that what i want?
how do you make that choice? how do you know when it's right to shake up the status quo and do something new or when you're just running away from problems?

change is good. a chance for a different perspective, growth, all that bullshit. but FUCK is it hard. i don't know what point i'm trying to make besides just plain old fashioned bitching and whining.  i don't have the answers. i don't have any answers. do smurfs have toes? I DON'T KNOW. is the communist party congress in north korea going to start world war 3? it's possible?? what's for dinner? STOP INTERROGATING ME.

i think the only good change is the kind i keep in my car for parking meters. and even that sucks when you forget to lock your doors and random people decide they need it more than you do. or when all the silver bits are gone and you're left with nothing but stupid pennies that don't work in parking meters.

nope. change of all kinds sucks. it is decided.

stand-bi

i'm awkward as fuck.

not in the adorable pretty woman, kind hearted hooker that doesn't know which fork to use with the salad kind of way.

i'm awkward in the bring a whole room to an awkward silence with an inappropriate comment or story kind of way.

i've never figured out the difference between polite conversation and when someone is actually hitting on me. probably because the second one has never happened.

i'm a bartenders favorite person. a little extra attention and they get an above average tip and probably a phone number that they'll never even glance at.

because when a bartender carries on a 20 minute conversation, through several interruptions, on the theory that geographic location/place of birth directly affects temperament and health of the population (think: people living closer to the equator are statistically happier due to their naturally higher vitamin d levels from getting more liquid sunshine than northerners) and the etymology/prevalence of genetic disorders or neurological anomalies based on geography...that MUST be flirting or at least some level of interest...right??

for the record: nope.

just a bartender getting a degree in geography.

i'm socially awkward of the ZERO GAME club when it comes to dating. i can wingman like a mutherfucker. if YOU need a date, i can help make that happen. but for ME? nope.

i have never struggled (per say) with my sexuality. growing up i liked boys because i was raised in a small religious town where girls liked boys and boys liked girls and that was that. there were a few outliers- one PE coach that was a lesbian...she lived with the lady that refereed the volleyball games. that was the extent of my "exposure" to anything other than the status quo according to the baptist church. vague half knowledge of two ladies that lived together. oh the scandal.

years after leaving the small town scene, after a divorce, after some growing up and exploring and coming into my own and realizing sex and masturbation are ok and not shameful, one-way-ticket-to-hell things, i started to notice small shifts in myself. porn preferences tended more and more towards girls. i started noticing women more in general. started thinking i would really like to try dating girls as well as guys. there was no real debate, no real struggle, just a slow recognition of a whole other side of myself and a whole different section of the dating pool.

huh. i think i'm bi. MAYBE I SHOULD EXPLORE THAT.

and so i went on a date with a girl. (that ended in a threesome somehow. some men have magical powers that i will NEVER understand).

and i LIKED going on a date with a girl. and i like girls in general. and i still like boys.

BUT. that was my one and only date with a girl. and my track record with boys isn't much better. out of the last 10 scheduled dates, 9 of them have stood me up.

because i just...i'm missing that part. i'm missing that social filter of polite vs. flirting. i'm missing that confidence to not care about rejection. i'm missing that ability to connect.

i can carry on a conversation with a stranger next to me in a bar. i can chat with them and have general bar debate and banter. but that's it. i don't know if the bartender is flirting. i can't tell if the waitress paid extra attention to my table. i don't know if the checker at the grocery store is just trying to make their shift interesting or actually is interested. is that smile from the stranger at the gas pump just a nice person? or someone checking me out?
 

i like boys. i like girls. but i'm on perpetual stand-bi.

how do you get past that? how do you learn to differentiate? it's easier/safer to just assume NO ONE is flirting and walk away at the end of an interaction, but i can't help but feel like maybe i'm being a little too closed off ice bitch when i do that.

people like to talk about the bi community as double dipping...oh, you're just bi so you have twice the chances at last call. YOU MEAN TWICE THE CHANCE AT REJECTION? cause i'm pretty sure that's all it means. also...do bi people not have taste? are we that cartoon wolf howling at EVERYTHING? in the same way homophobic men are afraid of gay men because being gay must mean you like EVERY. PENIS. ON. EARTH. apparently being bi means that i have no opinion or personal preference, i'm just trying to bang anything with a heartbeat.

guess what: NOPE. being bi just means i'm TWICE as awkward. it means i'm TWICE as inept at trying to get a date. it means i'm TWICE as likely to stick my foot in my mouth and embarrass myself in front of someone. i'm too straight for a good portion of lesbians, and dear god, whatever you do, never tell a man you're bi because all you'll hear after that is "do you know anyone for a threesome?" DUDE. I CAN'T EVEN GET ONE DATE AND YOU WANT ME TO ARRANGE A THREESOME?

and so here i am. twice as single. double the awkward.

remember that horrible tom hanks movie where he was stuck in the airport forever because he didn't have a homeland?

that's me. in the dating world. stand-bi forever because i don't really belong anywhere. and i don't speak the language.

now i just need a catherine zeda-jones stewardess to take pity on me.

customer service

*this blog may be copied and distributed for training purposes*
 

I am usually a pretty mellow person. It takes a while to light my fuse, but once it’s lit, IT’S FUCKING ON LIKE DONKEY KONG.

I understand the service industry sucks. From being a waitress to being a customer service rep. I get that people get pissed off and angry and irrational. I’ve taken my share of phone calls at work of people SCREAMING at me when things go sideways. I try *REALLY* hard not to be the screaming asshole.

Until I have to be.

Then I will scream and curse and light a mother fucker up.

Take my car for example. #fucktoyota

I bought a toyota a little over a year ago after my little passat got rear ended and totaled. The car buying process was TERRIBLE, but I bit my tongue. Then, two weeks later I got notice that the dealership had changed all my signed, sealed, delivered paperwork from a local credit union where I was preapproved, had the approval paperwork in hand, signed all the papers with the credit union name on them, to wells fargo because if the car dealership can match the terms and payments with another bank, they can switch the paperwork without asking. OH, and the car dealership gets a kick back for pushing paperwork to specific banks. I REFUSE, ABSOLUTELY REFUSE to do any banking with Wells Fargo.

So, I SCREAMED. I went on a twitter rant and landed in the office of the customer service rep at Toyota where I explained, politely, that I would drive my fucking car through their front fucking window if they didn’t fix it.

They fixed it. The gentleman was VERY nice. We ended up talking over a few different things and when he heard my reasoning for avoiding wells fargo he understood and told me he would talk to his sales team and make sure they understood my reasoning too and that a kick back isn’t always worth over writing the customer’s request just because you have the legal paperwork to back it up.

GREAT. THANK YOU. Well handled. Smoothed out. Happy(ish) customer again.

I’ve been driving the car for almost a year. And then I had a nail in the tire. At my next oil change I asked them to look at it. ALL I was told is they couldn’t repair it. No explanation. Nothing. Just that I need to take it to a tire shop.

I take my car into a tire shop where they explain that where the nail went through is unsafe to patch, technical talk, I needed a new tire. DO I WANT ANOTHER WINTER TIRE?

Wait. WHAT? I’ve been driving in winter tires SINCE I BOUGHT THE CAR? No one told me when I bought it that there were studless winter tires on it. _I_ don’t know the difference between a studless winter tire and an all season tire. So I drove winter tires, through unusually hot summer temperature, decreasing the life of the tire exponentially, because Toyota couldn’t be bothered to tell me either when I bought it, OR WHEN THEY LOOKED AT THE NAIL IN IT that it was a winter tire?

NOT. HAPPY. But shit happens. Bought a new tire (yes, just one, I know how bad it is) and went on my way.

At the last oil change I also let them know there’s a problem with my starter- not always, but often enough when I start my car it sounds like it’s already running- that sound when you try to start it but it’s already started? That grinding over-start noise? It does THAT.

They couldn’t find anything. To this day it STILL does it, but whatever. The theory of take a car to the mechanic…you’ll never get it to do what you need it to when there’s a chance for someone in the know to hear it. I’ll just have to take a video every time I start my car until I can catch it making the noise clear enough for them to diagnose.

So then last week I get a call: there are two recall items that I need to bring my car in for. When can I make it in.

I tell them I’ll check my schedule and call them back.

The next day I call back to schedule and I’m told there are no recall items on my car.

Wait. WHAT? What the fuck?

The gal calls me back late that afternoon- OH WAIT. Just kidding. There are 2 recall items. When can I bring my car in?

Between work, kid baseball, life, the only time I can make it in during their hours is on a Saturday.

So. Saturday (one week ago) I take my car in for two recall items. AND, while it’s here, the starter is still not right, and now there’s a grinding sound- like metal on metal when your brakes are worn out, but it’s NOT when I press on my brakes and it only happens under 20 mph.

My hour appointment (their time table) takes almost 2 hours, but I don’t mind because I figure it means they found what the noise is and are fixing it. There’s also a nice older gentleman in the waiting room that I had an interesting conversation with.

They bring back my keys and tell me the recall items are done: airbag cable and computer update. They couldn’t get the starter to make any noise and they couldn’t hear any noise from anywhere else while driving it.

Me: did you check all the brakes and tires? I just had one rear tire replaced, could that be causing it?

Tech: we checked all the brakes and tires and didn’t see anything.

Well. Fuck.

So I take my keys, get in my car, and first thing notice my steering wheel is jacked up. There’s a huge gap all the way around the air bag cover and it looks like it’s not sitting on right. I try to press it down which makes the horn go off which is embarrassing as fuck, so I head home.

GUESS WHAT NOISE THE CAR MAKES ALL THE WAY HOME?

Then, NEW FUN, as I pull into my drive way and turn the wheel a full turn, now there’s a fun dragging noise- it sounds like a cable wrapped in wire mesh being dragged across plastic. THAT WASN’T THERE BEFORE.

Monday I call the dealership and tell them what’s going on. The guy on the phone says to bring it back in. OK. WHEN? Well, we close at 4. OH. So you want me to take time off work so you can fix your screw up. not happy. He tells me it’s an easy fix. He knows exactly what the mechanic did. OH. SO THIS HAS HAPPENED BEFORE? ENOUGH THAT YOU KNOW EXACTLY WHAT HAPPENED BEFORE YOU LOOK AT IT? That’s not encouraging.

Tuesday I get off work early, get to the dealership as close to 4 as I can, pull in the bay, it’s making the grinding noise LOUD AS FUCK which echoes off the walls and the same service tech guy as Saturday says: “oh, is that the noise?”

THAT SUPER LOUD GRINDING? YES, THAT’S THE NOISE. BUT, I’m actually here for the airbag. I told the guy on the phone it’s making a dragging noise when I turn the wheel a full turn.

15 minutes.

FIFTEEN FUCKING MINUTES.

Tech: We fixed the airbag cover, and that grinding noise is your brakes. The cover on the brakes that helps keep them quiet is misaligned and rubbing on the rotor.

Me: *deep breath* did you fix it?

Tech: no. that would take, like an hour.

Me: so now what?

Tech: you’ll have to bring it back in.

Me: ok. How much will that cost?

Tech: well, since you just bought the car not too long ago I’ll see if I can do it for no charge.

Me: ok. So when can I bring it back in.

Tech: well, I’m booked all Saturday morning.

Me: SO DO YOU HAVE SATURDAY AFTERNOON AVAILABLE?

Tech: yeah. I could probably get you in around 1.

Me: *deep breath* ok. Well put me down for one then.

How did it take them only 15 minutes to find the problem this time when last time I specifically asked them to check those specific parts and they didn’t find anything??

Ok. Well. Shit happens. Everyone has an off day. I’ll just come back Saturday and get it all fixed.

So I drive home. And I pull into my garage. And what do I hear? THE SAME DRAGGING NOISE IN THE STEERING COLUMN.

ARE YOU FUCKING KIDDING ME?? SO WHAT THE FUCK DID THEY JUST “FIX”????

And so I go on a twitter rant.

Because it’s what I do.

TOYOTA gets back to me: “did a local service rep get in touch with you?”

NOPE.

Yesterday I do get a call from the local customer service gal, (knock, knock, knock) Penny.

I’m not the smartest person on earth. Not even close. But I do understand a few things. I understand that when you tell me you’ve been in the business for 20 years as a customer service rep and now you’re handling social media that means social media got dumped on you because no one knew what to do with it INCLUDING YOU. Google is almost 18 years old. Twitter is only 10 years old. Facebook isn’t even that old (I know because I have tweets pop up in timehop about switching over to facebook).

So. What you’re saying is: you have no idea what to do with me.

LET ME TELL YOU WHAT NOT TO DO:

#1: don’t accuse the person who’s already pissed off of “posting anonymously so no one can respond.”

BITCH, PLEASE. My twitter handle is my name. my avatar it a picture of me from less than a month ago. My profile has a link to my facebook page which has ALL my contact information. TWO CLICKS and you can find out EVERYTHING about me that you need to know. TWO CLICKS. That is FAR from anonymous. also, YOUR customer account has ALL my information. You have my name. you know what day I was in. you know exactly what repairs I’m complaining about. Is it THAT HARD to look at my customer account and get my information? yes, I’ll grant you, twitter is an online forum which is seen as anonymous to many people, but, since I’m one of the lucky people that cries when I get extremely pissed off, I didn’t want to be the screaming, cursing, crying customer standing in the store making EVERYONE uncomfortable. Pretty sure they don’t want that either.

#2: don’t tell me how great your brand is.

Don’t tell me that you’ve monitored by the toyota corporation and the larry h miller corporation and the better business bureau. ALL THAT TELLS ME IS YOU HAVE A BETTER LEGAL TEAM. It tells me that customers are shut down because you have a contract that backs you up when work is done incorrectly, or when your team screws up, or when any number of things happens. It ALSO tells me that I you think I’m full of shit. All your other customers are shitting rainbows, what’s my problem? It ALSO tells me that you’re so busy defending yourself, you’re not listening to me.

I try to explain to you that simple things: a multi-point inspection sheet being incorrectly filled out is a sign of a bigger problem. Your tech filled out the multi-point inspection form and marked NOTHING wrong with my car. Including the little windshield wiper box. Little green box checked: everything is A-OK.

EXCEPT THAT I KNOW MY REAR WIPER BLADE IS FALLING APART AND THE PLASTIC IS LITERALLY HANGING OFF IT. I know it’s worn out. It’s been worn out for months. I’m too lazy to stop at a store and buy a new one. I didn’t need them to tell me it was worn out. BUT THE FACT THEY CHECKED IT AS OK MEANS THEY DIDN’T LOOK AND DIDN’T DO THEIR JOB RIGHT. Something as simple as a wiper blade being over looked or, worst case, lied about, HOW CAN I TRUST YOUR COMPANY ON BIG THINGS IF THEY LIE ABOUT LITTLE THINGS?

#3 don’t talk down to me.

I don’t know that you have techs AND mechanics. All I know is I drive my car into the bay, hand my keys to a guy, and the same guy brings my keys back and tells me everything they did (or, in this case, pretended to do). DON’T BE A SNOBBY SHIT WHEN I CALL THEM ALL MECHANICS. After I’ve explained everything in as much detail as possible, TWICE, don’t say “well, help me out here.” THAT’S WHAT I’VE BEEN DOING. Don’t patronize me, don’t, again, try to tell me how great your brand is. Don’t try to sell me on your bullshit concern.

So. I have another appointment. I get to waste another Saturday afternoon in the shop. My car gets to be worked on for the THIRD TIME in ONE WEEK.

Tell you what, if it isn’t all done correctly this time, there will be ZERO question about anonymity. I WILL be the screaming, cursing, probably crying customer IN PERSON. FOR ALL THE OTHER CUSTOMERS TO HEAR.

Insult to injury: as I’m explaining all this to a friend, he asks: why do you keep taking your car back there? You know you can take it into ANY Toyota shop, right?

WHAT FRESH FUCKERY IS THIS? I took it into these assholes intent on fucking me without lube because they’re the ones that called about the recall. There’s a Toyota dealership literally ACROSS THE STREET from my work. I could have taken it into there?? I’m going to call the one across the street today to see if they can do the oil changes that were part of my purchase agreement and, honestly, even if they can’t, I’m still going to take it there from now on just to NOT go back to the same assholes ever again.

fuck toyota. fuck larry h miller.

this is my car. this is how i get back and forth to work. this is how i pick the kid up from baseball and go grocery shopping. how safe do i feel driving a car that's had the air bag worked on THREE TIMES IN ONE WEEK? pretty sure i'd rather go on a date to a mariners game (too soon?) maybe i can trade this car in for a duck boat. i don't know if it's because i'm female. i don't know if it's because they treat all their customers like shit. i don't know if it's because they're terrible mechanics or because they think they can get away with it.

all i know is FUCK YOU. this is my car. i'm paying a fuck ton of my money, every month, for this car. i want it to be safe. i want it to work properly. i want broken things to be fixed, RIGHT, THE FIRST TIME.

i want to be heard as a customer. i want to be listened to by the mechanics.

what i REALLY want is to drive my car through the fucking plate glass window at the dealership, get my loan cancelled, get my original down payment back, and go find ANYONE ELSE to buy a different car from.

but i don't have bail money. and i don't want to have to buy another car.

and then...

we have a customer at work that has a fairly large account balance. every week, like clockwork, he sends in his payment, and every week, no exceptions, his payment is folded neatly in a piece of yellow legal paper.

because...i don't know really. they make security envelopes. it gets delivered to a po box. there's really not much risk now days of someone stealing what they think *may* be a check from a po box.

BUT. whatever the reason, every week, check folded up in a piece of yellow legal paper.

i decided to start saving the yellow legal paper.

because, why not? it just seems wasteful to throw away a black piece of papers whose only job so far has been to prevent the theft of a perfectly secure check.

and i decided somewhere along the way, wouldn't it be funny to use the saved paper to write a story? something ironic about someone who is struggling to pay their bills but is wasteful in every other manner in life.

SHUT UP. IT IS NOT A BIOGRAPHY.

well, maybe.

anyway. saving paper. writing a story.

BUT WAIT. i already threw away half the pages. well, some of them anyway. so...do i have to start the story part of the way through? like a manuscript whose first few pages have been lost throughout the process?

we join this story already in progress...

AND THEN i had the though, wouldn't it be fun to write a whole bunch of stories that start half way through? or end half way through?

because let's be honest: i'm too lazy to write a whole fucking story. i'm great at starting stories. i have a whole fucking portfolio of half started stories with great characters that i lost interest in. it happens.

and as soon as i had this idea (and a few more hits) the ideas started pouring in along with some fucking fantastic one liners.

and so that's what i'm going to do. i'm going to start a series of half started and half finished stories. and they'll force the reader to create the ending. or the beginning. and what's better than making someone else do your work for you?

it's so fantastically fucking egotistical to think that not only would someone want to read a story (half story) i wrote, but that they would take the time to craft their own ending to it as well.

i'm super excited. i'll probably throw most of them up on here since i have little to no patience and pretending to wait until i have enough compiled to make an actual book sounds like it would take forever, and what good is a story if people can't read it.

so. that's the plan. and i'm already crafting excuses as to why it will be a half finished collection of half stories.

it'll be great.