The Slight of my Hand is now a Quick-Pull Trigger

Life recap:

-work still sucks. I'm still underappreciated and not respected by Disney managers and some of my new cast members. And I still wear the stupid costume.
-Old friends do not make good roommates. Accordingly, old friends should give more notice before deciding not to renew leases, leaving me with less than a month to find a new place to live.
-Moving to a nicer area in less than two weeks. 0% done on started packing and cleaning. That is proportional to exactly how many fucks I give.
-Ended my relationship of five years and discovered that I have no fucking idea how to live without a boyfriend.

Let's put this into perspective.

I've spent the last five years in a (not so healthy) relationship. During these five years I stopped seeing my friends, disobeyed my parents, sneaked out in the middle of the night, lied to my best friends, cheated, dropped out of college, pissed off my grandparents (almost getting disowned), and ran away to Orlando.

Running away to Orlando was a huge wake up call. I've been here now for three years, and I have completely matured. I feed myself, pay my own bills, clean my own apartment, even signed my name on a lease or two. And I realized that throughout all of that, I outgrew my boyfriend. I haven't been in love with him for a while now, and I have stayed with him because it was easier than being alone and I didn't know how to be Amanda, not Amanda-and-Cody.

So, I broke up with him. It's been over a week, and yea... it still sucks. I've been upset, daresay even depressed, but it's been because I've closed a chapter of my life and I mourn the loss of who Cody could have been. Breakups suck no matter who did the actual breaking up. It's hard.

But as the days are going by... I'm starting to feel less and less sad... and more liberated. I went through my phone and changed all of my "fake contacts" (people he didn't want me to talk to) to their real names. I don't have to worry about going out to a bar and having to be back before midnight. I don't have to worry about angry phone calls demanding to know who I'm with. I don't have to worry about a bazillion texts accusing me of being with someone when I just fell asleep on the couch.

I can live my life again.

That's huge for me, because I have no idea how to live as Amanda. I know how to live as Amanda-and-Cody, but just me? That's hard. I'm slowly getting my feet under me again. A beach trip here, a night out there... Slowly but surely I'm figuring out who I am again.

It's kind of awesome.

I don't want to date anyone. Not right now. It's hard to give your heart to someone when it's still tender, so I'm flying solo for a while. Hell, I don't even want one-night-stands or anything. Sometime over the past three years my sex drive crashed and burned into a million burning pieces, and it's an effort just to think about that sort of thing right now. Who knows if- or when- it will come back.

On the plus side, it is rather nice not to have to worry about that.

So here I am, at work, on the internet, ignoring guests. Cuz I don't give a fuck. Doing some naval gazing and wishing like hell I had my best friend (here's to you, Dames) here with me so we could do something stupid and crazy. Like join the National Guard (which I may or may not be considering). Or get arrested. Or pass out drunk in a ditch.

SOON.

Just when I thought I was done being a psychotic bitch of a girlfriend... Nope. Doesn't look like I am. The boyfriend is here this weekend, and he went on a Taco Bell expedition with Chad, and while he was gone I hacked his computer and therefore his Facebook. He de-friended that bitch I hate, but going through his messages what do I see? Messages between him and her. Nothing worth writing home about... But just enough there to make me suspicious.

So the question becomes, am I just paranoid because of past events, or should I trust my gut like I should have last time?

He may not be friends with her on a stupid website, but that means nothing. He still works with her- they do gigs all the time. They go to the fire poi thing every Wednesday...

Bah. Just makes me super suspicious.

I am aware that in this age of constant technology; iphones, kindle fire tablets; and laptops- wifi available at practically every known place on earth, and the modern dependency on being constantly plugged in- there is no excuse for me not posting here.

So I'm chalking it up to pure laziness and calling it a day.

But here I feel the need to rant. Because I cannot get this shit off my chest any other way without sounding like a whiny bitch, and if I don't express this I'm going to snap.

Surprisingly, the only thing that I don't have to rant about right now is work, because that at least fucking knows better than to fuck with me. The rest of the world obviously missed the memo.

First thing- and these are not in order of what's pissing me off the most, they're just in order of what comes to mind first- is my roommate. Backstory: I've been friends with this kid for a long fucking time. For some reason, I thought he had grown the fuck up, and would be a good person to live with. So he moves down here, and we sign a lease. Everything is hunky-dory for a while. I get him a job with my company because he's done nothing but sit on his ass and whine about how the world isn't handing everything over to him. He lasts at this job for a grand total of 6 months before they fire him. He then sits, unemployed, at home for several weeks and does nothing but bitch about how dirty the house is.

Sidebar. My other roommate works 3 days a week, but his parents give him money to get whatever he wants. I work 40+ hours a week, manage my own store, and pay all my shit without financial help from anyone. Chad's mom has helped him out almost monthly.

When he bitches about how dirty the house is I almost lost it. As the only fucking person in this house with a full time job, it should not be my responsibility to come home after work and pick up everyone else's mess. I am not a fucking maid. As the only (at the time) UNEMPLOYED roommate, he should have at least done the goddamn dishes instead of expecting me to do them. He FINALLY gets a job as a personal trainer, and has all these delusions about making $600+ a week, and yet he has no networking, has to give 55% of his client profit to the gym he works at, and has no personal clients. He's not a certified nutritionist, and yet he dares to give ME lip and tell me how to buy my groceries? I know how to eat healthy, I just choose not to.

And yet this fucking asshole has the nerve to tell me that "garbage in is garbage out" and then brings home McDonalds every night for dinner?! On top of that, I finally went shopping for groceries, and bought (among other things) some meat from the deli, water, and bagels with cream cheese. I ran out of half a pound of deli meat four days after I bought it. Either I started eating deli meat in my sleep, or Chad's been eating my food. Michael would tell me if he was- but he has his own and there was no reason for him to eat mine. Then today I go to make a bagel and realize that half of my goddamn cream cheese is gone. I asked Michael and he said he hadn't had any, and I bought MINI bagels. I've had 5. There's no way in hell I used half a tub of cream cheese on 5 mini bagels. Chad's been eating my food without permission and it pisses me off.

AND AS I'M WRITING THIS HE JUST KNOCKED ON MY DOOR AND ASKED IF HE COULD EAT MY COOKIES. MY RAGE HAS NO BOUNDS RIGHT NOW.

He's having a "boot camp" this weekend at a local park, and is charging $10 a person. First of all, he doesn't have permission from the park to do this. Second of all, public parks specifically prohibit profitable activities. The only kind of activities that are allowed to be had there that are organized by the public are non-profit activities. I try to tell him this but the moron doesn't fucking listen and at this point, WHATEVER. Let him figure it out. I DON'T CARE.

Second thing. BOYS. FUCKING BOYS. My boyfriend is more of a girl than I am, and does nothing but bitch and moan all the time about how much he misses me and shit. I DON'T CARE. LEAVE ME ALONE. GROW A PAIR OF TESTICLES AND GO KILL A DEER OR SOMETHING. My blinding jealousy still overpowers my rational thinking at times- like tonight. I had a SUPER shitty day today. Shitty enough that I called out of work for the next two days and am going to attempt to say "fuck you" to the world and get better. Today is a day when I feel like a girl. I want someone to cuddle me and tell me it's okay. Boyfriend has been pestering me all goddamn week about having a "Skype date" tonight where we "read each other a chapter from a book that reminds me of our relationship". (Yea. Disgusting.) That's too girly even for me. But I was willing to have the skype date, sans reading, simply because I need a bit of sympathy and my pint of haagen-daas didn't so much as put a dent in my self-pity.

10 o clock rolls around and I get a text from boyfriend saying "I'm going to dubstep night at Rehab". This was my reaction. "............... What about our skype date" to which he responds "you never gave me a straight answer. So I made other plans." In the past, when boyfriend has gone from super-clingy and annoying to brusque and standoffish, it means one of two things. 1. He's hanging out with someone I wouldn't like him to be hanging out with. or 2. He's fucking around with other people.

At this point, I want nothing more than to call up Kyle Harris, and fuck his brains out. Because that is how I deal with this kind of stuff. Unfortunately for me, he's in Tallahassee, and I snipped the ties with any boys of interest in Orlando out of self-preservation for my failing relationship with boyfriend.

Third thing that's pissing me off. Family.

My feelings on my brother and his relationship with my mom are a bit of a testy subject with me. When I lived at home my mother and I fought like angry cats. She was super hard on me and I was a brat, but regardless of my behavior, my mother treated me like she was the Czar of Soviet Russia or some shit. My brother currently lives with my mom, while I got the hell out of dodge and live FAR FAR away. My brother gets away with murder. Examples.

I smoked pot actively for a grand total of 3 weeks. My mom happened to go through my shit, found my stash, and FLUSHED IT DOWN THE FUCKING TOILET while grounding me for the rest of my life, confiscating my phone and computer, and basically declaring I was on lockdown. This was at the same time my brother was a pot addict, smoking EVERY GODDAMN DAY. Even recently, my brother smokes actively at home. He has all the paraphernalia, and keeps drugs in the house on a regular basis. He even had his dealer come to the house to drop some off. Is my brother on lockdown? Did his shit get taken away and his drugs flushed? Nope.

When I would go to my friends house for a few days, my mom would blow up my phone telling me that I needed to come home and take care of my animals and she was going to take them to the pound, etc, etc. My brother has two horridly behaved cats who ruin my mom's belongings, and is gone 99% of the time. She leaves him alone.

When I wasn't in school full time, I worked my ass off at my job. I paid my car insurance and cell phone bills, and paid for my own gas. My brother is taking one class. He works 2 days a week. He hasn't paid my mom for his bills since November. He takes her credit card and buys groceries and gas, cigarettes, and shit for his diet.

AND SHE LETS IT HAPPEN.

She borrows money from me to last between paychecks, and owes me close to $500 at the moment, and yet I still pay my bills to her.

WHAT THE FUCK IS THIS SHIT?!

I tried to bring it up with her and she brushes it off every time. "Your grandparents spoiled you. Your brother doesn't have that." I'm so sick of everything.

Is it too much to ask that the world just leave me alone and let me worry about my own problems? Is it too much to ask that I only have to worry about pleasing ONE goddamn person- myself?!

Fuck everyone (except Z because she understands me). I can't wait until this weekend because I think we both need some goddamn R&R.

STOP THE WORLD I WANT TO GET OFF.

So let me tell you a story. Disclaimer: this story makes me seem like an idiot. Which I am. With that being said...

Last night was a pretty fun night for me. I drove an hour into the middle of nowhere and got topless in front of a bunch of strangers (this isn't the idiot part- stay tuned) and got painted for lung cancer awareness month.

Look it up. Read about it. It's legit.

So that wraps up around 11, and I head back home, with a detour to my old apartment to see my two old roommates because they had a birthday present for me (read: cake pop maker and cake mix). I was excited, and I'm walking back to my apartment, the whole 200 feet, and I get stopped by this lady who is walking the opposite direction I am.

Now, let me take a moment to say that over the course of me being painted, I drank a considerable amount of alcohol. I was more than a little intoxicated.

So this lady tells me that she's a psychic, which is pretty normal in my day-to-day life and she tells me that she could feel my energy from down the street and she had to come talk to me. She asked if she could do a reading on me, which I was like "eh, what the hell". She then tells me that she works out of Ft. Lauderdale and she is visiting, and that she normally charges $85 for readings but for me she would only charge $25. Red Flag #1.

Again, sidebar- when I've been drinking I have a tendency to throw money around. I buy people drinks, I buy people food, and I pay people to do stupid shit. I forgot this fact before I said yes. So... that makes me a moron.

I tell this lady sure why the fuck not, and we go the ten steps to my apartment where she does a "reading" on me- after of course I fork over the $25. She asked me a lot of questions before giving me answers. Red Flag #2. Some of the things she said were eerily specific and things she could not have known about me, and others were just bullshit. But, I was drunk and thought that she was the shit and was totally impressed.

So then she tells me that there's a "darkness" around my aura and that my shields are not up, leaving me exposed to things that go bump in the night. She tells me that this "darkness" could be inherited from my mom since she has been through 4 marriages, and that she can look into it and find out what is causing this, and she would not charge me for her services. BUT, she would have to charge me for supplies. Red Flags #3-7

I ask the obvious question: how much would it cost? She responds coolly with "$400." RED FLAG #8.

At this point my brain is like "hey, you drunken idiot, what the fuck do you think you're doing? $400 is a lot of money, bitch. Think about this and get back to her when you're sober". So I tell her that I don't know if I can afford that and could we speak tomorrow, and then talk about a payment plan or something like that.

She then gently but firmly insists on the money tonight, so that she can start as soon as possible. Red Flag #9. She even offers to go with me to the ATM. I tell her I don't have $400, and she says well that we can start off with $200 and I can pay the rest when I get my next check. She then throws a bunch of mumbo jumbo my way and basically makes me forget these red flags. So we pile into the car and run to the ATM and get the money, and then back to my house.

Sitting in the car, she then asks me to write down my full name and date of birth, my mom's full name, and my dad's, and "anyone else important in my life". Now I'm starting to remember the Red Flags with the arrival of Red Flag #10. Fake psychics are notorious for using your birthday and full name to google search you or just give you your horoscope and pass it off as their own work.

She has only given me her first name, by the way, and gives me a phone number that is not hers that I can reach her at, Red Flag #11, and #12, and tells me that she will start tomorrow and then get back to me in a few days. She warns me not to tell anyone about anything that has happened, because she doesn't need the "psychic interference" and at this point I'm feeling like a total ass and I know I've been played and I have no idea how to stop it. She leaves, I go inside, and sit down on my bed.

I replay the evening in my mind. I see where I went wrong. Pull up google, search "Fake psychic questions" and it was like seeing the script laid out in front of me. I was like... Fuck. That bitch just conned me out of $225. Sneaky.


So I call her today and tell her that "Due to unforeseen circumstances" I will no longer be needing her services, but thank her for her time anyway. She tries to insist that she can still help until I mention "I no longer have the funds to pay you" at which point she was like oh, ok, and hung up.

So, basically, I got swindled by gypsies.

Welp. I feel like a moron.

Lesson learned.

Live and let live. That bitch did a damn good job on me- she deserves that money simply for being such a sneaky bitch. *shrug* I'm not too worried about it.

I'm off to go read porn and get drunk in the confines of my room, and I'm going to do the smart thing and lock myself in! So if anyone gets a drunken text whining about me being trapped in the bathroom, just remind me that I'm better off in there anyway.

<3

So... Apparently crazy does it for me. In particular, one crazy. *sigh*

I can't figure out if this is just one of those things that's just lingering because I was told I couldn't have it or if it's just hormones.

Does being female come with a manual or something?

SERIOUSLY.

So... roommate meltdown week has progressed out of Pensacola and all the way to Orlando. Well, technically, Kissimmee. But close enough. Princess had a meltdown over a $5 late he refused to pay, and after bullying Michael he called me to whine about the injustice of it all. I was sitting next to Michael for the whole conversation between them, and when he called me, I lost it. I told him he needed to pay the late fee, and not to give Michael any shit about it.

He called me some nasty names, and I told him to "fucking pay the money or he needed to get the fuck out" and hung up on him. He sent me a nasty text and I pointedly ignored it. He then came home and told me that "friends don't talk to each other like that" and when I told him that I still considered us friends he said that he did not. So I said ok, turned around, went to my room and told him anything else he had to say to me could be sent via facebook message. He said in a message that I was acting childish, and I told him that if he wanted to discuss it later.

Four days later, haven't spoken to him or seen him. *shrug* I don't care either way, I did nothing wrong, and when he wants to apologize for being a tyrant who terrorizes my other roommates by bullying them into getting what he wants, then we will be fine.

So... yup. That's been my life for the past few days. That and I've been cooking! Yay food I cook that's good!

Who's excited about Dragon*Con?

I'm excited about Dragon*Con!

My Cruella costume came in today, and I totally rock it. I'm a bit curvier than Cruella is generally depicted (Disney would agree) but I can't wait anyway. It's gonna be friggin AWESOME. Now I just have to find a purse (preferably dalmatian-print)and perhaps a stuffed puppy that I can throttle randomly throughout the day, and we will be all set!

In other news, work can still blow me. They're moving me to a smaller store "on a 6-week trial period" before they give me the title "Leader in training" (which comes with a pay raise, whoo!) which I think is crap because I've been training for the leadership position for almost 6 weeks now... But... what the fuck ever. They're just doing this because of my age I know. That pisses me off, but I'll play along for now.

So Chad has been... very ambitious with his costume idea this year. He's making some steampunk arm, and he has less than two weeks to finish it. He's so far made the forearm piece, bicep piece... And he still has to make the shoulder piece, cannons, and add all the accessories (gears, plates, etc.) And he has to work straight through until Dragon*Con- kinda like me!

So... Yea...

What to do with the remainder of my last day off? I will probably go to to Books-A-Million, spend my last twenty bucks on books. Why not, right?

So, one of my besties is getting married. She's been engaged for almost a year at this point, and the wedding isn't until March, but the preparations are already underway and are in full swing. Even though this friend lives only about an hour from me, I've had little to do with the preparations myself. In fact, the only thing that I've done before today was go try on my bridesmaid's dress, which took like... 10 minutes. *snort* I went in, I tried it on, I took it off, and we left to have lunch. Easy come easy go.

I personally don't feel very bad that I haven't been involved- I can barely plan ahead far enough to feed myself for a week, let alone help with a wedding, which is every little girl's fantasy come true (I guess... It's never really been mine.). This means EVERYTHING has to be perfect. Honestly, it's too tedious for me, and I don't exactly get along very well with one of the other bridesmaids (read: Wire Haired Man Goblin) so it was no skin off my nose to just show up when I was needed.

Imagine my surprise when my friend calls me a few days ago and tells me that she's going to pick up The Dress (yes, note the capitals) on Friday and she wants me to go with her. I was the first she asked so of course I said yes. I went with the maid of honor (who happens to be male) and one other random friend with whom I was unacquainted. So I drive over there and she gets The Dress and tries it on to make sure the alterations were awesome and damn if it wasn't downright gorgeous and didn't bring a tear to my eye.

Something about wedding dresses and having ovaries makes me all teary-eyed.

So with that accomplished we pack up The Dress with the utmost care (I would rather die than see Molly if someone ruined The Dress) and ate some Taco Bell for old times sake.

It was pretty awesome. So everyone departs, and I pack up my car and proceed to drive to Tally.

WHICH IS SOMETHING I SWEAR I WILL NEVER DO AGAIN IN THE DAYLIGHT HOURS.

It's a damn good thing I love Molly so fucking much, because I literally SWEATED MY ASS OFF on the drive. Four hours of humidity, heat, and a boat of a car with no AC. I drove without a shirt on, and considered taking off my jeans, with all four windows rolled down, my hair up, and still I sweated BUCKETS. I don't think I've sweated that much in my LIFE.

Finally get in town around 7, shower off and get ready to go to a concert (the whole reason I came up this weekend to begin with). 10 Years is one of my favorite bands, and I saw them in concert at Floyd's last year. When I heard they were playing there again, I jumped at the opportunity, made some adjustments to my work schedule, and bought a ticket. It was every bit as FAN-FUCKING-TASTIC as I thought it would be. With one. Minor. Setback.

Floyd's is by no means a very large establishment. It's basically below street level, so almost underground, with a bar, a stage, and three tables. The rest is standing room. People were packed in like fucking SARDINES, which is normal for all Floyd's concerts. It gets hot, it gets sweaty. You mosh, you drink, you rock the fuck out, and then you go home. Well today, for some unknown reason, the powers that be decided to fuck me over. The ventilation system in Floyd's was down. Floyd's doesn't have AC as far as I know, but the vents keep the air moving at least, and makes it bearable.

Not today.

Today, the air was standing still, and was so thick with sweaty bodies, stale beer, and cigarette smoke that you needed a snorkel or something. It was downright ridiculous. Within 15 minutes of walking in the door my shirt was completely soaked through with sweat. People were removing shirts left and right in order to keep from suffocating. The bands were dying of heat, and took their shirts off (hey, definitely not complaining there) and chugged water when they weren't spraying it on the crowd or tossing bottles to whoever looked closest to passing out.

But damn if every single damn person in that bar didn't have an amazing fucking time. There was zero personal space. I got intimately acquainted with everyone around me, and we all rocked and sang and screamed until our throats bled. We jumped and clapped until our knees popped and our palms stung, and we sweated until we could sweat no more.

Which was a real concern, but hey, it was awesome. 10 Years puts on a FUCKING amazing show, and I would highly recommend seeing them if you get the chance. They're not perfect- the lead singer is kinda scrawny, the bassist's shoes kept coming untied, and the drummer tripped over his cords. But they're real people. It's not like some concerts where the band is a god-like entity above human interaction. 10 Years sings to their fans, they feed off of the energy. The lead singer said that he LOVES singing in tiny venues like Floyd's because its so much more intimate, the fans are so much more into the show.

Everyone was caught up in the music; the drums, the bass, were our heartbeat, the guitars were our lungs, and the vocals tied it all together into a living, breathing entity. It was amazing.

And the lead singer AND the bassist both touched me. WE SHARED SWEAT. IT WAS AWESOME. I SALMONED- LIKE I DID AT DRAGON*CON LAST YEAR WHEN I PASSED BY THE BUILDING WHERE STAN LEE WAS.

And no, I was not high. Or drunk.

Just wanted to clarify. :P

But seriously. They were awesome. Stereoside opened for them and they were pretty fucking awesome as well. They sound JUST like they do on their albums.

So yea.

I've been up for 20 straight hours at this point, so I think I'm going to get some sleep.

Deuces.

Dear Internets,

Why am I awake? I woke up this (well, yesterday) morning at 9am and worked for 8 hours, came home, ate dinner, went to Target for shampoo, and have been on the computer ever since. I even turned off the 90's throwback Nicktoons and closed my laptop around 1:30 so that I could tidy up my room. So what did I do instead? I took a shower, shaved my legs, applied copious amounts of lotion, painted my toenails black, cleaned my ears, turned the computer back on so I could play some music while I cleaned, and the next thing I know its 5:30 in the morning and my room still isn't clean. And at this point, I'm tired and I have to go pick someone up from the bus station at noon.

And, to make things worse, I just scared myself. My closet doors are mirrored and face the bed, and my face is illuminated from my laptop, and I glance up to see someone staring at me... Screamed for a second before realizing that it was just me.

WHY AREN'T I SLEEPING?! q_q

AND AT THIS POINT IS IT EVEN WORTH SLEEPING FOR 6 HOURS?!

Idk. *face palm*

Today was pretty lame... Went to work. Didn't do anything at all, and don't feel the least bit bad about it. So I'm on 8 hour days this week, which is unusual for me. So for once, I got to go home while the sun was still up, and I promptly went to Target to buy a celebratory Hot Pocket. And then I ate it.

Now, I'm sitting on the couch with my gay roommate, and we are eating homemade pizza, drinking Yellowtail, and going to have chocolate covered strawberries for dessert. We each have our own bottle (I'm not alcoholic I swear!) and I can't help but think to myself... Why can't my roommate be straight?!

Men are wasted on the gays.

>:/