Why I suck
So I'm all behind on deadlines and stuff. I have to register for school and get all that crap finished in a matter of days. I have almost completely fought off the bastard of a cold I managed to suck out of someone, but it is still managing to cling to life.
I miss being home. When I am at work I fantasize about being on the couch with Preston, watching the Style channel or A Wedding Story, maybe even actually wiping the snot and tears off of my face instead of letting them drip down towards my chin in a way that chants "you're never gonna get married, Jill!" I don't know what your tears say to you, but mine almost always point out my loserishness. Cockmaster.
I went to the delia*s in the castleton mall last night and realized this whole 'responsible adult' gig just isn't something I want to do anymore. I remember the days when I was making the cash and didn't have bills and I bought clothes like they were going out of style. Too bad that's what clothes are best at doing. (going out of style, jackass) Yeah. A shopping spree for Jill in the near future is as probable as a walk-on role in a german scheister film. And since I am so talented in the german ass-screwing department, I might have new clothes sooner than I think.
I just remembered Christmas. I haven't bought a single thing for anybody. Last Christmas I was working at Wendy's (Fuck you.) and I gave my mom the mini-stocking that had a wendy's logo pen and I think a candy cane. It had originally been filled with a lot of chocolate but I took care of that. *rubs tummy* I gave her the freaking pen though, I mean what more could a mother want? Anyway yeah...I think that was the only gift I gave last year. Jill's not the best at giftery.
It's not that I don't like giving gifts, because I do. It's just that I've sort of lost my feel for the whole "Christmas spirit" thing. If anything, I should be reeking of spirit this year. I have a lot of great people in my life right now, and I've got a lot of good things going on.
To this day, I believe my gift-giving impotence stems from my deeply-rooted emotional issues that developed around the age of 15.
I was never required (by my parents) to have a job at any given age. We lived in a small town, and while I didn't exactly have an allowance per se, they gave me cash when I asked for it. So I had borrowed a semi-large sum of money from my mother to "buy presents" and I guess she assumed I was buying them for the family, but instead I spent a week at the mall, feverishly searching for the most thoughtful gift a girlfriend could ever give to her boyfriend. The week was not for naught, I fucking kicked ass and I managed to find the best presents the world had to offer for JD fucking Dirksmeyer, and what was his gift to me? We'll get to that later.
He was a major star wars fan, and I swear that child had everything that ever rolled off the assembly line. I had managed to find the bestest, cutest, sweetest card ever made, and while I can't exactly remember it now, I remember crying in the hallmark aisle over it. It was really deep. *bites lip* I also found a star wars light saber remote control at Spencer's, and while I'm not the biggest star wars fan, I even thought it was awesome. That was the most expensive gift of his, and it was pricey. Next, I bought him some true-to-life exact scale replica of some ship they flew in or around or something, and then some guy that came with it. I don't know. Like I said, I'm not a fan. All I know is I put a lot of time into buying really kickass gifts for my loving boyfriend.
What did the fucker get me? A gift certificate for JC Penney.
I opened it and bit my lower lip to keep it from the horrible trembling motion that I knew would eventually result in a flood of underappreciated tears, the kind that flow freely when you realize you're the only one actually in the relationship, that the other person is clearly a dumbass, and while your brain is telling you that you should want nothing to do with them ever again, you can't help but want them ALL THE TIME. I had just previously endured a lecture from an angry mother (a mother that realized I spent all my cash on some guy) and I had responded angrily with "Mom, I LOVE HIM!" and ran to my room, pathetically flinging myself on my bed. That scene, along with the realization that, wow, JD really wasn't worth this, raced through my mind as I held in my hand the most insulting piece of paper that ever existed.
I ended up using it to purchase the single most expensive, unattractive piece of jewelry I had ever seen (just to spite the bastard) and while I recieved some sort of sick satisfaction out of frivolously wasting his money, I was still pretty torn up.
He ended up leaving me for a fat cheerleader bitch that gave it up easy. I was fat, but I wasn't a cheerleader. And I wasn't easy. SUCK.
Over time, I discovered that JD Dirksmeyer could best be described in this way:
"One who doesn't want to hurt your feelings but just doesn't feel that way about you but still wants to be friends so they can torment you with stories about their crushes on someone who doesn't appreciate them like you do, can't love them like you can, and actually takes pleasure in corralling a herd of fawning "just friends" behind themselves as they indulge in one self-destructive relationship after another, with no hope of ever finding true love, despite an army of souls eager to lavish it upon them."
So there I was, virtually giftless for my entire family, donning the ugliest piece of metal ever imagined on my wrist, and boyfriended by Retard of the Year. This, my friends, was the best Christmas I had ever seen.
I miss being home. When I am at work I fantasize about being on the couch with Preston, watching the Style channel or A Wedding Story, maybe even actually wiping the snot and tears off of my face instead of letting them drip down towards my chin in a way that chants "you're never gonna get married, Jill!" I don't know what your tears say to you, but mine almost always point out my loserishness. Cockmaster.
I went to the delia*s in the castleton mall last night and realized this whole 'responsible adult' gig just isn't something I want to do anymore. I remember the days when I was making the cash and didn't have bills and I bought clothes like they were going out of style. Too bad that's what clothes are best at doing. (going out of style, jackass) Yeah. A shopping spree for Jill in the near future is as probable as a walk-on role in a german scheister film. And since I am so talented in the german ass-screwing department, I might have new clothes sooner than I think.
I just remembered Christmas. I haven't bought a single thing for anybody. Last Christmas I was working at Wendy's (Fuck you.) and I gave my mom the mini-stocking that had a wendy's logo pen and I think a candy cane. It had originally been filled with a lot of chocolate but I took care of that. *rubs tummy* I gave her the freaking pen though, I mean what more could a mother want? Anyway yeah...I think that was the only gift I gave last year. Jill's not the best at giftery.
It's not that I don't like giving gifts, because I do. It's just that I've sort of lost my feel for the whole "Christmas spirit" thing. If anything, I should be reeking of spirit this year. I have a lot of great people in my life right now, and I've got a lot of good things going on.
To this day, I believe my gift-giving impotence stems from my deeply-rooted emotional issues that developed around the age of 15.
I was never required (by my parents) to have a job at any given age. We lived in a small town, and while I didn't exactly have an allowance per se, they gave me cash when I asked for it. So I had borrowed a semi-large sum of money from my mother to "buy presents" and I guess she assumed I was buying them for the family, but instead I spent a week at the mall, feverishly searching for the most thoughtful gift a girlfriend could ever give to her boyfriend. The week was not for naught, I fucking kicked ass and I managed to find the best presents the world had to offer for JD fucking Dirksmeyer, and what was his gift to me? We'll get to that later.
He was a major star wars fan, and I swear that child had everything that ever rolled off the assembly line. I had managed to find the bestest, cutest, sweetest card ever made, and while I can't exactly remember it now, I remember crying in the hallmark aisle over it. It was really deep. *bites lip* I also found a star wars light saber remote control at Spencer's, and while I'm not the biggest star wars fan, I even thought it was awesome. That was the most expensive gift of his, and it was pricey. Next, I bought him some true-to-life exact scale replica of some ship they flew in or around or something, and then some guy that came with it. I don't know. Like I said, I'm not a fan. All I know is I put a lot of time into buying really kickass gifts for my loving boyfriend.
What did the fucker get me? A gift certificate for JC Penney.
I opened it and bit my lower lip to keep it from the horrible trembling motion that I knew would eventually result in a flood of underappreciated tears, the kind that flow freely when you realize you're the only one actually in the relationship, that the other person is clearly a dumbass, and while your brain is telling you that you should want nothing to do with them ever again, you can't help but want them ALL THE TIME. I had just previously endured a lecture from an angry mother (a mother that realized I spent all my cash on some guy) and I had responded angrily with "Mom, I LOVE HIM!" and ran to my room, pathetically flinging myself on my bed. That scene, along with the realization that, wow, JD really wasn't worth this, raced through my mind as I held in my hand the most insulting piece of paper that ever existed.
I ended up using it to purchase the single most expensive, unattractive piece of jewelry I had ever seen (just to spite the bastard) and while I recieved some sort of sick satisfaction out of frivolously wasting his money, I was still pretty torn up.
He ended up leaving me for a fat cheerleader bitch that gave it up easy. I was fat, but I wasn't a cheerleader. And I wasn't easy. SUCK.
Over time, I discovered that JD Dirksmeyer could best be described in this way:
"One who doesn't want to hurt your feelings but just doesn't feel that way about you but still wants to be friends so they can torment you with stories about their crushes on someone who doesn't appreciate them like you do, can't love them like you can, and actually takes pleasure in corralling a herd of fawning "just friends" behind themselves as they indulge in one self-destructive relationship after another, with no hope of ever finding true love, despite an army of souls eager to lavish it upon them."
So there I was, virtually giftless for my entire family, donning the ugliest piece of metal ever imagined on my wrist, and boyfriended by Retard of the Year. This, my friends, was the best Christmas I had ever seen.