And this may not even be that BIG-ASS!!! because it’s almost two in the morning as I type this and I’m gonna do my best to recap every thing I’d like to report here since I last posted something significant.
The hottest news, though, just happened last week: my big ass got a new job at a new spa. I’ll be leaving my job of three years to work at a place much closer to home, that pays me better, and with a caring work environment that values their workers as much as their guests. In short, I’ll be working at an actual spa.
My soon-to-be-former workplace has been on the slide in almost everything in the past year. I will say that I liked how things were a year ago there than I do now. Then, we–for one–had boxes of kleenex in every room. Now, when we run out, we give toilet paper to our guests when they get the sniffles. Remember, this is a spa I work at, that charges $100/hour massage. In Marin County! I gave some TP to one of my regulars who needed it, and he said the TP is not even good enough to wipe his ass with. It is guests like those that do make me sad to leave, though. I’ve built up my clientele there, and established some great friendships with some of my fellow spa workers.
But leave it to the unfunny joke that is our current management to ruin things for me. I now feel tension when I’m in the place. Not all the time–just when certain people are around. It’s those certain people, though, that have the upper hand. Or so they figure. We got lazy youngsters that are supposed to help us with laundry but instead would rather play with their cell phones. If guests are wondering why it takes so long for us to flip our rooms or why we don’t have towels, blame it on the lazy slags who are supposed to clean, fold, and roll up sheets and towels for us. It’s not the fault of the spa workers over why there is SO much laundry. But, I guess to be fair, there’s another reason why last year at my spa was nicer: then, we had a designated cleaning lady, and the front desk slags can slag all they want. Now, it’s part of their job, but what do you expect from them when they get a Facebook notice? And, good gawd, don’t get me started on the uptight twat known as our lead MT.
I swear, if the price is right, I’ll gladly spill all the tea on this place in a tell-all, dammit.
Happy news the rest of this post, because happy news actually happened.
I got my Prius fixed in late May. It’s not 100% fixed because slim bank account and bills, but it runs fine and is a breath of fresh air from the gas-guzzling truck I was pushing before. That truck, by the way, had its troubles before I was able to drive my Prius. So I was driving an old-ass truck that was on the verge of dying on me, that also had no A/C and bad speakers, while my Prius stayed in the backyard for a short while. Why? The thing didn’t have registration and insurance. And I couldn’t get all that right away because, again, slim bank account and bills. Plus, I wanted to pay fees for the car title transfer. (My estranged mother finally passed the title to me on Christmas, long after my car was paid off–by the both of us, mind you. This was something I had to battle with her, and, I guess, a sliver of a soul creeped up within her and made her decide to finally give that car title to me. It was the very final string that I had with that hag, that is finally cut. The car is mine for good, and I’m finally free from the shackles.)
I eventually took care of it all, right when that truck decided to keel over. It’s not dead for good, but it does need plenty of repairs again. Happy to drive a nice car (with A/C!!! And airbags! And good speakers!) again. Hopefully, I’ll have plenty of dough the next time I need to get it repaired. And hopefully, I don’t have to take it to the shop anytime soon!
Thanks to RuPaul’s Drag Race, my love for drag queens has been rekindled. I don’t know why/how it became idle, but an even more pressing question is why the hell did I not watch RPDR from the start? This is one of the few reality shows I’ll gladly watch. And some of the boys, when they’re out of their drag, are cuuuuute. Case in point: Violet and Pearl from this past season. I’ll always have a soft spot for lanky, fresh-faced studs that stirs the cradle-robber within me.
Pearl and Violet: spewing troof and purdyness on the daily. What I would give to see these boys makeout/do each other. *drools*
Just a little over a month ago, the best news I’ve heard in a looooong time.
By the way, the two big headlines on this front page earns all the LOLs.
This sports hor was pleased the past two months.
A Triple Crown winner!!!
Another Giants pitcher throwing a No-Hitter! (And the free pizza I got from it after!)
Another by the way: try hard not to LOL over this. (Unless you’re a fan of this team, in which you can keep dreaming.)
USA! USA! USA!
Yet another by the way: you know what I’ve always wanted? Besides being the designated sweat-licker of Rafael Nadal? (Yes, I would do this, and for cheap. Not for free, though, because sweat and my pride.) A Spanish broadcast of a pro hockey game. The announcers can even say “goooooooooaaaaallllll!!!” like they do in soccer when a hockey goal is scored.
OK, I goofed: there is a bit of sad news here. One of my top sex toys Michael Morse just got traded to
Team Fuckface the Dodgers. There is nothing more pussy-drying than seeing one of my men play for the rival team. Well, guess I’ll have more lust to give to the rest of my sex toys.
***UPDATE 7/31: so my sex toy got designated for assignment by the Bums, meaning he won’t be playing for the team, thus sparing my eyes from being seen in that atrocious blue. Say yay.
Finally, the reason over the lack of posts here was because I was writing up another story. That is already finished, edited (and edited and edited), and submitted, so all y’all keep yo’ fingers crossed. I will say that I really enjoyed writing this, and will most likely get involved in another project soon. What’s my story about this time? I may tell you if it gets accepted for publication. Foolishly superstitious me feels like even revealing a sliver of deets about it may jinx it. For now, I’m gonna come up with some ideas for my next story, and spend a bit more time posting nonsense here until I fully thrust myself into my new project.
**UPDATE 7/31: I got an email today from the publishers that I sent my story to. I got creeped when I saw their reply, since I sent my story to them just a few days ago. Pessimist me thought my story must have sucked to them, and thus they had to tell me right away. But no, it was regarding that they received my story, and that, if they do like it, I won’t hear from them for six months. Either way, I still have to wait a loooong time, story approved or not.
I also do not recommend having wine and a weed treat at the same time. I couldn’t come off the high for days.
Now, in honor of Jon Stewart leaving “The Daily Show” this year (booooooo!!!), here is your moment of zen.