so... wait... where is god, exactly?
the following entry is full of angst and half-truths presented as the whole thing.
born out of frustration, it will probably be more amusing than accurate.
but really, who the fuck cares?
now listen,
there is no pleasing fat people.
i was thinking about it (feel free to think about it too), and just kind of came to the realization while driving home this morning after work, after getting pissed off by a (very) fat chick. i thought about it and realized, the other people, the ones that drive me the most crazy at work due to their general lack of lustre in all facets of life... yeah, they're fat too. even fat people i like, they always need more. it's not just gluttony in the face of food that they experience, it's in everything. more involvement in the lives of others, more attention focused on them. more liberties and more permissions.
well fuck fat people.
seriously, fuck 'em.
when logging on i just saw this blurb on the yahoo main page about how 'looks aren't that important' when starting to date someone.
WHO THE FUCK IS BELIEVING THIS SHIT? who is even SAYING it, pretending to be some sort of moral guard of a fictional high-ground?!
yeah, i think i'll go and date that chick at the bar over there that's 340 pounds. she probably plays a hell of a game of uno, she's my first pick fo shizzle!
yeah, i think that bald guy over there with the gut and shitty stubble and lazy eye is HAWT. well, no... wait... not HAWT... i think he is MORE THAN SUITABLE FOR ME BECAUSE I DON'T CARE ABOUT LOOKS!
bitch, please.
anyway, that wasn't why i'm here, just a ridiculous sidenote.
i am a good correctional officer.
honestly, i really fucking am. of course, the last time i said that i fucked up in setting my alarm for the next day and showed up late for my shift. which really, doesn't show that i'm a bad officer as much as i'm bad at setting alarm clocks.
but i AM a good officer. yeah, i'm only 6 months in, i miss some of the details. but i've caught onto the big stuff like fucking gangbusters (which i think is a good thing... this 'gangbusters'). there are a lot of drab and dull components to the job. almost secretarial kinds of things... writing reports, doing a lot of routine checks, preparing other paperwork, shit like that that doesn't really matter...
...to anyone but fucking FAT people.
you kind of have to picture the place. where i work, there's a big room, maybe 20x35 feet, with metal picnic tables and seat and cell doors lining the walls. and there are supposed to be 3 officers working in each of them. thing is, the A) full time staff, and the B) fat people are rarely to be found at their actual fucking posts, in the big room (we call it a dayroom, because they're out there in the day... GET IT?!). Oh, and the full time people that are fat? pfft, forgetaboutem. they sit in the office with the other fat, lazy, stupid, irritating, arrogant assholes in the office that overlooks the dayroom areas and do nothing but fucking complain about their $28 an hour job where they're expected to do almost next to nothing AND STILL DON'T DO IT.
so i've been there almost 6 months. and if in the beginning, you'd told me the worst part about working with murders, thieves, rapists, arsonists, etc would be the fucking STAFF... i would have laughed you out of the joint. 'not in an officer job, silly! officers support each other, ha ha!'
and ohhhhh, i would have been wrong.
i work as an authority figure to persons who specifically and aggressively hate authority figures, and it's the other STAFF i can't stand. buy THAT shit for a dollar, oh won't you?
so i've been there almost 6 months. there are probably about 75-80 people that work directly with me, maybe more. i have learned almost all their names, first and last. to be fair, i've kind of had to, since sometimes you're in the office and someone will call and say, "HEY, I NEED TO TALK TO ---- RIGHT NOW!", and that could be their first name, last name, or fucking nickname and you need to know it.
there were 8 in my class that started at the same time with me. you wouldn't think it would be that hard for those 75-80 people to learn 8 new names if i can learn 75-80, right?
two days ago i got called 'hawthorne'.
for those not in the know, that isn't my first name, last name, or nickname.
and being called 'buddy' is only cute for so long. even the ones that pronounce my name wrong, i don't mind. but how fucking disrespectful and ignorant is it to not even bother to learn someone's NAME that you work with? fucking disgusting.
now i will say god is in the details, as previously i renounced it.
i am a good correctional officer.
i never compromise security. i learn from my mistakes. i help out other people without being asked. i accomodate when problems or other complications arise, especially in regards to staff. i make preparations for others. i take on tough or extra assignments. i am cordial, polite.
i can communicate with the clients, the young offenders. i can actually converse with them and get them to review their lives a little bit without completely demeaning them.
basically, i help.
i make a small difference for the good.
and a small difference for the good is far better than no difference, or one for the worse.
sometimes i miss out on the small details. sometimes i fuck shit up that doesn't matter, sometimes i fuck the shit up that a secretary could do.
today, for example.
a secretary could transcribe 22 names and numbers from one sheet of paper to another easily. i am not putting down the secretarial arts, only saying that i am not a secretary, and that part of my job... doesn't really matter that much. except to fat people. and even then, it's when someone ELSE doesn't do it.
this fat fucking balding bitch and her cohort today chewed me out about not writing up a couple of sheets with 22 names on them on the night shift. she said it was the night shifts JOB to do it, not the day shifts, which she was coming in on.
that same fat fucking balding bitch and a cohort chewed me out about not doing the same sheets with the names about 2 months ago... when i didn't do them during the day.
a month ago, it was day shifts job.
today, it was night shifts job.
FUCK me.
not much i could say. the best things always come to me later, which i'm sure is not a unique phenomenon. i did, however, at that moment think to say, lightheartedly
"well, i guess that's kind of an adaptation of 'the customer is always right'... it's just that the senior staff is always right... and it doesn't get much more senior in here than this, am i right?!"
(see, because chicks don't like being fat and old.)
didn't say it, though. she's a relief supervisor.
HAWTHORNE?! fucking KIDDING ME, right?
there is no pleasing fat people. think about it. think of a fat person you know. now imagine you laid down a free rack of fully cooked, delicious prime rib in front of them. they would eat it heartily enough, but then what? they would ask one of a few things... like...
'soo... is there any more?'
or maybe even better,
'what, no potatoes? fucking gay.'
look in your heart of hearts, where you admit that flamboyant gay stereotype people piss you off (because it's been DONE, holy shit). where you admit that maybe... just maybe... women are completely crazy. where you admit (if you're a macho guy) that you secretly want to check out your football buddies' wangs.
admit it.
there is no pleasing fat people.
skinny people, though? oh man!
skinny people are no problem! they're hungry! they'll take what they can get and be grateful! all my skinny friends are great. my sister is super-skinny and super-awesome. meek and thankful, intelligent and observant. my girlfriend was a lot cooler and easier to live with when she was 10 pounds lighter, too.
i have had a pretty shitty week. few good meals, even less sleep. the girlfriends great grandmother died on sunday, which kind of started things off. and since we're being honest here today, here's something honest and distasteful and selfish... i knew i was going to have a shitty week when THAT happened, believe me. cold? maybe. but the woman was 97. 97! and deaths and funerals have been right fuckeddy in my head since my dad died. it affects me in a really weird way. i get dizzy and almost fall over constantly. a week long headache that won't go away. sick all over, tingling, pain, tenseness. work was going surprisingly well. i kind of befriended one of the 10% of good employees at my job, a guy who is into punk, and the good punk, like black flag and misfits. a good guy and a good worker, and even full time staff! but today kind of ended my salvation at work. back to reality, asshole, back to reality.
but i am a good officer. you're not going to convince me otherwise, you fat bastard of a world. you unpleasable rock, you cold, uncaring ball of torment. fuck you, because i'm doing my best while you do nothing at all. fuck you, because i'm making a difference for the better.
and fuck you because you don't even know my NAME, and i'm more important now than you will ever be, because i'm a good person that gives a shit whether or not this world goes to hell.
for some stupid reason. i kind of hope i never figure that reason out.
okay. i have to go to bed now, and get up after not much sleep, so i can get back into a pattern of sleeping at night, being boring during the day rather than vice versa. maybe 4-5 hours. and then i will wake up cranky, barely functioning, but put that away somewhere so i can listen be there for my girlfriend, listen to her complain about a day that probably really wasn't that bad, and then hug her until she feels better and maybe make her dinner too. i will not go into the depth of my day, as it is something she would not comprehend easily and i will be too cranky and hungry and impatient to try to explain it all. also, i will spare her from experiencing real pain, and do so thanklessly and without the expectation of thanks. it may not be the thing i should be most proud of in my life, not quite up there with the lives i may have saved,
but maybe doing it will make another difference, somehow, somewhere, and karma will come and visit me for breakfast on the weekend.
so listen,
god may or may not be in the details...
but still...
remember this truth...
there is no pleasing fat people.
born out of frustration, it will probably be more amusing than accurate.
but really, who the fuck cares?
now listen,
there is no pleasing fat people.
i was thinking about it (feel free to think about it too), and just kind of came to the realization while driving home this morning after work, after getting pissed off by a (very) fat chick. i thought about it and realized, the other people, the ones that drive me the most crazy at work due to their general lack of lustre in all facets of life... yeah, they're fat too. even fat people i like, they always need more. it's not just gluttony in the face of food that they experience, it's in everything. more involvement in the lives of others, more attention focused on them. more liberties and more permissions.
well fuck fat people.
seriously, fuck 'em.
when logging on i just saw this blurb on the yahoo main page about how 'looks aren't that important' when starting to date someone.
WHO THE FUCK IS BELIEVING THIS SHIT? who is even SAYING it, pretending to be some sort of moral guard of a fictional high-ground?!
yeah, i think i'll go and date that chick at the bar over there that's 340 pounds. she probably plays a hell of a game of uno, she's my first pick fo shizzle!
yeah, i think that bald guy over there with the gut and shitty stubble and lazy eye is HAWT. well, no... wait... not HAWT... i think he is MORE THAN SUITABLE FOR ME BECAUSE I DON'T CARE ABOUT LOOKS!
bitch, please.
anyway, that wasn't why i'm here, just a ridiculous sidenote.
i am a good correctional officer.
honestly, i really fucking am. of course, the last time i said that i fucked up in setting my alarm for the next day and showed up late for my shift. which really, doesn't show that i'm a bad officer as much as i'm bad at setting alarm clocks.
but i AM a good officer. yeah, i'm only 6 months in, i miss some of the details. but i've caught onto the big stuff like fucking gangbusters (which i think is a good thing... this 'gangbusters'). there are a lot of drab and dull components to the job. almost secretarial kinds of things... writing reports, doing a lot of routine checks, preparing other paperwork, shit like that that doesn't really matter...
...to anyone but fucking FAT people.
you kind of have to picture the place. where i work, there's a big room, maybe 20x35 feet, with metal picnic tables and seat and cell doors lining the walls. and there are supposed to be 3 officers working in each of them. thing is, the A) full time staff, and the B) fat people are rarely to be found at their actual fucking posts, in the big room (we call it a dayroom, because they're out there in the day... GET IT?!). Oh, and the full time people that are fat? pfft, forgetaboutem. they sit in the office with the other fat, lazy, stupid, irritating, arrogant assholes in the office that overlooks the dayroom areas and do nothing but fucking complain about their $28 an hour job where they're expected to do almost next to nothing AND STILL DON'T DO IT.
so i've been there almost 6 months. and if in the beginning, you'd told me the worst part about working with murders, thieves, rapists, arsonists, etc would be the fucking STAFF... i would have laughed you out of the joint. 'not in an officer job, silly! officers support each other, ha ha!'
and ohhhhh, i would have been wrong.
i work as an authority figure to persons who specifically and aggressively hate authority figures, and it's the other STAFF i can't stand. buy THAT shit for a dollar, oh won't you?
so i've been there almost 6 months. there are probably about 75-80 people that work directly with me, maybe more. i have learned almost all their names, first and last. to be fair, i've kind of had to, since sometimes you're in the office and someone will call and say, "HEY, I NEED TO TALK TO ---- RIGHT NOW!", and that could be their first name, last name, or fucking nickname and you need to know it.
there were 8 in my class that started at the same time with me. you wouldn't think it would be that hard for those 75-80 people to learn 8 new names if i can learn 75-80, right?
two days ago i got called 'hawthorne'.
for those not in the know, that isn't my first name, last name, or nickname.
and being called 'buddy' is only cute for so long. even the ones that pronounce my name wrong, i don't mind. but how fucking disrespectful and ignorant is it to not even bother to learn someone's NAME that you work with? fucking disgusting.
now i will say god is in the details, as previously i renounced it.
i am a good correctional officer.
i never compromise security. i learn from my mistakes. i help out other people without being asked. i accomodate when problems or other complications arise, especially in regards to staff. i make preparations for others. i take on tough or extra assignments. i am cordial, polite.
i can communicate with the clients, the young offenders. i can actually converse with them and get them to review their lives a little bit without completely demeaning them.
basically, i help.
i make a small difference for the good.
and a small difference for the good is far better than no difference, or one for the worse.
sometimes i miss out on the small details. sometimes i fuck shit up that doesn't matter, sometimes i fuck the shit up that a secretary could do.
today, for example.
a secretary could transcribe 22 names and numbers from one sheet of paper to another easily. i am not putting down the secretarial arts, only saying that i am not a secretary, and that part of my job... doesn't really matter that much. except to fat people. and even then, it's when someone ELSE doesn't do it.
this fat fucking balding bitch and her cohort today chewed me out about not writing up a couple of sheets with 22 names on them on the night shift. she said it was the night shifts JOB to do it, not the day shifts, which she was coming in on.
that same fat fucking balding bitch and a cohort chewed me out about not doing the same sheets with the names about 2 months ago... when i didn't do them during the day.
a month ago, it was day shifts job.
today, it was night shifts job.
FUCK me.
not much i could say. the best things always come to me later, which i'm sure is not a unique phenomenon. i did, however, at that moment think to say, lightheartedly
"well, i guess that's kind of an adaptation of 'the customer is always right'... it's just that the senior staff is always right... and it doesn't get much more senior in here than this, am i right?!"
(see, because chicks don't like being fat and old.)
didn't say it, though. she's a relief supervisor.
HAWTHORNE?! fucking KIDDING ME, right?
there is no pleasing fat people. think about it. think of a fat person you know. now imagine you laid down a free rack of fully cooked, delicious prime rib in front of them. they would eat it heartily enough, but then what? they would ask one of a few things... like...
'soo... is there any more?'
or maybe even better,
'what, no potatoes? fucking gay.'
look in your heart of hearts, where you admit that flamboyant gay stereotype people piss you off (because it's been DONE, holy shit). where you admit that maybe... just maybe... women are completely crazy. where you admit (if you're a macho guy) that you secretly want to check out your football buddies' wangs.
admit it.
there is no pleasing fat people.
skinny people, though? oh man!
skinny people are no problem! they're hungry! they'll take what they can get and be grateful! all my skinny friends are great. my sister is super-skinny and super-awesome. meek and thankful, intelligent and observant. my girlfriend was a lot cooler and easier to live with when she was 10 pounds lighter, too.
i have had a pretty shitty week. few good meals, even less sleep. the girlfriends great grandmother died on sunday, which kind of started things off. and since we're being honest here today, here's something honest and distasteful and selfish... i knew i was going to have a shitty week when THAT happened, believe me. cold? maybe. but the woman was 97. 97! and deaths and funerals have been right fuckeddy in my head since my dad died. it affects me in a really weird way. i get dizzy and almost fall over constantly. a week long headache that won't go away. sick all over, tingling, pain, tenseness. work was going surprisingly well. i kind of befriended one of the 10% of good employees at my job, a guy who is into punk, and the good punk, like black flag and misfits. a good guy and a good worker, and even full time staff! but today kind of ended my salvation at work. back to reality, asshole, back to reality.
but i am a good officer. you're not going to convince me otherwise, you fat bastard of a world. you unpleasable rock, you cold, uncaring ball of torment. fuck you, because i'm doing my best while you do nothing at all. fuck you, because i'm making a difference for the better.
and fuck you because you don't even know my NAME, and i'm more important now than you will ever be, because i'm a good person that gives a shit whether or not this world goes to hell.
for some stupid reason. i kind of hope i never figure that reason out.
okay. i have to go to bed now, and get up after not much sleep, so i can get back into a pattern of sleeping at night, being boring during the day rather than vice versa. maybe 4-5 hours. and then i will wake up cranky, barely functioning, but put that away somewhere so i can listen be there for my girlfriend, listen to her complain about a day that probably really wasn't that bad, and then hug her until she feels better and maybe make her dinner too. i will not go into the depth of my day, as it is something she would not comprehend easily and i will be too cranky and hungry and impatient to try to explain it all. also, i will spare her from experiencing real pain, and do so thanklessly and without the expectation of thanks. it may not be the thing i should be most proud of in my life, not quite up there with the lives i may have saved,
but maybe doing it will make another difference, somehow, somewhere, and karma will come and visit me for breakfast on the weekend.
so listen,
god may or may not be in the details...
but still...
remember this truth...
there is no pleasing fat people.