Cowards

I'd always gotten the asshole vibe from this regular customer at work. He'd made fun of me before, & I'm sick of seeing his ugly face. I work as a lumber cashier at Lowe's, & I see some customers everyday or nearly everyday: frequently multiple times a day. It sucks. This guy is 1 of those customers.
When this guy is there by himself, there aren't problems. But when he has an audience, watch out. He's been there with his kid(s), & asked me, "Are you having fun?" & I've said, no, & he's laughed, which might not sound so bad (Certainly, trust me, it's boring & typical.), but context is everything sometimes. I'm real; that's how I am. If I'm miserable, I have neither the energy nor the inclination to act happy. & I'm frequently miserable at work for good reason; my job sucks.
Lately, this asshole has been coming into Lowe's with a young guy: a teen. So they come to my register. While I'm doing my job, the asshole asks me, "Do you like your job?" He's such an asshole, I was expecting him to laugh when I said, "no," but he didn't. "What's your passion?" he asked. As I mentioned, I'd gotten the asshole vibe from him before, so I didn't answer. he said, "not this?" I said, "no." The teen said, "Are you certified in anything?" "No," I said. "He don't give a fuck about you," the asshole said. "He's angry," 1 of them said as they were leaving. It was humiliating. They ganged up on me. If you don't see it, you had to be there.
I'm such an easy target. I stand there, they approach me, & I have to deal with them. Realistically, to be a cashier at my age means I'm a loser. & that's how they treated me. & people are so shitty, they don't care WHY you're a loser, just that you ARE 1, & therefore, it's OK to treat you like 1. Maybe I'm a loser because I'm the result of a teen pregnancy, my father left when I was 2, my mother has always been cold, selfish, lazy, uncaring, stupid, etc, & I was molested by a family member (the short version).
So that in itself sucked, but it wasn't over. That occurred at the "front end" of the store, where the main exit is. Then, as usual, I moved to the lumber register to relieve the woman who starts there at 6:00 am. So they returned. Fucking great, I thought. Even though he's well into adulthood, I saw the asshole jump onto a cart & ride it a bit.
So they approached me again. The asshole said, "hi." I was still pissed at them, so I said nothing. He laughed & so did the teen. Then he asked, condescendingly, "which register do you like better: this or the other 1?" Again, I said nothing, & again they laughed at me. I'd had enough.
"I don't appreciate you hassling me while I'm trying to pay my bills & keep a roof over my head!" I said very angrily to the asshole. I had bagged his purchases & tossed them hard onto the counter, which may have hit him a little bit, & there was hard stuff in that bag. He looked shocked; I didn't care; I was furious.
"You got it wrong," he said. "I was trying to be nice." "You laughed at me!" I replied. He said, "Yeah, but- (don't recall the rest)."
Then he called me a prick. Obviously, you can get fired for cursing out a customer, so I said, "You are!" The whole time, the teen is smirking at me: so fucking disrespectful & shitty. Then the teen bought an energy drink. I virtually always hand the change to the customers: not this time. I definitively put his change & receipt on the counter; our hands touched a little. I did not thank them for their purchases; again, I virtually always do that. The teen continued to smirk, as he said, "Have a nice day" (sarcastically) to me.
As they were leaving, the asshole loudly said, "What a fucking asshole!" or something like that, which was obviously meant for me. The teen laughed.
For quite a while, hours, afterward, I felt sick: possibly the result of an adrenaline dump. I also had, & still do, some fear. What if they come back to beat the shit out of me? I spend a lot of time alone over there: especially at night. What if 1 or both of them know Karate, etc.?
That's why I titled this "Cowards," because that's what people who fuck with other people while they're working are. It's not fair. He can call me a prick, an asshole, but I can't unless I don't mind getting fired, which doesn't seem so fucking bad, & hasn't for a while now.
Now I can "look forward" to dealing with them again (& again & again).

They Fucked with My Laundry!

I've had so many problems with the only laundry room I'm allowed to use regularly in my apartment complex (They let me use another laundry room in the complex once.  I've subsequently asked to use it again, and my request was denied, which pisses me off, because I have paid thousands of dollars of rent here over the years.).  There are 3 washing machines, and at least one of them is out of order frequently.  There can be a lot of competition for these machines.  Lots of times, I've checked to see if I could do laundry, only to find that the machines were being used.  The last time I attempted to do laundry, only one of the washers was working, and it was being used.  I had to go to a local coin-operated laundry, which wasn't fun.  There were quite a few loud, out-of-control kids there.  I left an angry message at the apartment's office, telling them what happened, and saying, among other things, "You raise the rent every year here.  Buy some washing machines."  A few days later, I called the office again, this time about my asshole neighbors, and the office manager asked if it was me who left the message about the laundry room (I didn't leave my name on the message, but she knows my voice because of how many times I've complained about my neighbors.), and I said it was.  She said that 2 new washing machines were on the way.  That was over a month ago.
I needed to do laundry: badly.  Doing laundry is like shopping at the nearest Walmart; it never goes very well; at least one shitty thing will happen.  I really dread doing laundry.  I checked the machines.  They weren't being used, but one of the washers was out of order.  What the fuck?  Considering what I had been told, none of them should have been out of order!  And the maintenance workers are so lazy.  They don't even put a sign up; they just unplug the machine.  But at least there were 2 washers, which is what I needed.  So I got my dirty clothes and started putting them into the machines.  I heard some people.  Two guys came into the laundry room.  They said they were going to be switching the "out of order" washer, which was between the 2 I was using, with a new one.  Holy shit!  You have to be fucking kidding me!  There was only a 27-minute window in which I was going to be using both washers, and that's when they were going to be switching the machines!  My luck is just unbelievable!  I was worried that they were going to fuck up my laundry.  They could knock the plug loose of a machine I'm using.  They could bump the old, or new, washer into one, or both, of the machines I'm using, which could result in a fuck up.
Meanwhile, I realized that one of the washers I was using wasn't working.  The light came on, but nothing was happening.  I angrily moved my clothes to the "out of order" washer; maybe that was working.  The guys came back, and one of them told me that machine was not working, and it was unplugged.  I moved my clothes back to the one that didn't work and told them about it.  One of them opened a panel and pushed a button.  The machine started, but it was in the wrong cycle.  "There's no water in there?" one of them asked.  "No," I said.  So he pushed some more buttons, and it seemed like he finally found the right cycle.  Before I left, I thought about asking them to not fuck up my laundry, but decided that probably wasn't a good idea. 
When I returned, to put my laundry into the dryers, one of the loads was finished.  Alarm bells went off in my head.  It had finished too early.  They had fucked up my laundry!  I opened the machine and inspected the laundry.  It seemed okay.  I couldn't help noticing that the old washer had been replaced.  The other washer was still going.  It takes about 10 minutes longer to finish than the one that was done.  Even though the laundry room is small, I spend that waiting time pacing energetically from one end of the room to the other (for exercise) until it is done.  Something was wrong with that machine too!  It was taking too long to finish!  So they fucked up BOTH of my loads: worst-case scenario!  It was taking so long to finish, I was worried that it WOULDN'T finish, that it would keep going forever, unless it was unplugged, which, of course, would result in fucked-up laundry.  In fact, a laundry token was left in the slot for that washer, which I assume one of the workers had left there for me, because they had fucked up my laundry.  I tried to get the token out, but I couldn't.  It finally stopped, and I inspected the laundry; again, it seemed to be okay.       
When I was completely done with the laundry, I still wasn't sure if it had been fucked up or not.  When I put on some freshly-washed clothes, I paid special attention to how they felt.  Did they feel clean?  Were they making me itchy?  How did they smell?  Because of my OCD, I smelled my freshly-washed clothes over and over again.  They smelled okay.  I was itchy, but I'm always itchy to some degree.  And how much of that itchiness was originating in my mind?
In retrospect, I believe my clothes are clean.  I'm too lazy to go through all that crap again anytime soon anyway.  So, despite all the stress and drama (I yelled, cursed my luck, and I was close to crying when I was furiously pacing: waiting for the machine to stop.), I think I ultimately was lucky, because those guys were there to fix the problem I was having with the washer I was using. 

Praying Is Lazy

I touched on this the last time.  First of all, as usual, leaving children and the mentally disabled out of the equation, belief in god works as a basic intelligence test.  If you believe in god, you are not intelligent.  If you don't believe in god, then you might be intelligent. 
Praying is lazy.  Instead of getting off your ass and really doing something for someone, you can just think, "God, please help Gladys."  That's it.  You're done.  Mission accomplished.  You didn't have to get off the couch.  You didn't even have stop stuffing your face with bonbons as though they were going to be discontinued tomorrow. 
This douchebag customer came into my workplace recently.  He's a very talkative piece of shit that has nothing interesting to say.  One day, he came in and told a shitty story.  He had been waiting in line.  An old woman said something about Jesus.  The douchebag said something like, "Well, I'll pray for you right now."  And, according to him, the woman was so fucking surprised and happy.  He finished with this stupid look on his face, that was probably supposed to convey, "Isn't that an incredibly great story?"  Fuck, no.  It's one of the shittiest stories I ever heard.  Perhaps the woman was lonely.  Maybe she needed someone to do things for her that she can't do anymore.  Maybe she needed someone to just spend some time with her.  But, no, that would require time and effort!  Just think, or say, a quick prayer, and you're done!
My mother told me, at least once I can recall, that she was praying for me.  Thanks for nothing.  I could pray that I have intelligent, successful, competent, and caring parents, but that ain't gonna happen. 
Jim Kelly, who is a former pro (American) football player, has had bouts with cancer.  I remember him, on TV, thanking people for their support.  Not sure if I remember exactly what he said, but the important parts, for this subject, are intact.  He thanked them for their cards, messages, and prayers, and, he added, "especially the prayers."  That annoyed me.  If someone is sending a card, or even just posting something on social media, then they're putting in more effort than someone who is just praying.  If you want to do something without doing anything, then pray.   

Shouldn't Be Parents

This is a list of the sorts of people who shouldn't be parents.  You shouldn't be a parent if you are-
mean
abusive
cruel
violent
brutal
sadistic
selfish (my father) (my mother)
shallow
superficial
uncaring (my father) (my mother)
emotionally cold (my mother) (my father)
not capable of protecting your child (my mother) (my father)
not in it for the long haul (my father)
someone who will lose interest in your kid as he or she ages (my mother)
stupid (my mother)
lazy (my mother)
quick to anger (my mother)
impatient (my mother)
reckless
rough
ordinary (my mother)
average (my mother)
typical (my mother)
an alcoholic
a drug addict
a mess (my mother)
a shitty driver
a scumbag (my father)
trash (my father)
a narcissist
a sociopath
a psychopath
mentally defective (my mother)
incapable of holding a job
living in poverty
a loser (my father) (my mother)
more interested in your phone than your kids
a meat eater (my mother)
a hunter
a fisher
a murderer (Meat eaters are murderers.) (my mother)
an arsonist
a thief
perverted
a sex addict
a pedophile
a rapist
a human being
 

Mother's Day

Today is Mother's Day here in the states, where so few have so much, and so many have so little.  Here is my Mother's Day message to my mother: FUCK YOU!  I'm also sending that out to all the other shitty mothers: fuck you too.  I hate my mother.  It makes sense to hate your parents.  They brought you into a world of violence, misery, pain, and shit.
Mother's Day and Father's Day are very backwards "holidays."  Instead of honoring biological (I have absolutely nothing against good adoptive parents.) mothers and fathers on these days, perhaps we should beat the shit out of them instead.  That would make more sense.
I was gonna write this post anyway, but, before I left work, I had to deal with 2 assholes, which only solidified my position that my mother is a cunt that deserves to be hated.
Also today, as I walked by some Canadian geese, one of them hissed at me.  It was because she was worried about her babies.  She was warning me to stay away from them.  I smiled at her and told her she had nothing to worry about.  She's a much better mother than mine ever was.   
I'll tell a little story about my mother.  Only a few years ago, I had moved in with my mother because I needed help.  I had tried to commit suicide, so I thought my policy of being alone might not be working.  Anyway, I was walking down the street I had grown up on.  Just before I reached my mother's house, some guy in a car stopped me.  "Excuse me," he said.  "But we've been having some burglaries on this street lately.  What are you doing here?"  I don't remember exactly what he said, but ti was definitely something like that.  It must have seemed so strange to see someone walking when most fat asses wouldn't dream of doing that: just drive everywhere.  So this asshole obviously thinks he has more rights that the police do.  
I pointed at the house I grew up in, and said, "That's my mother's house.  I grew up here."  Then he backed off.  I know I was pissed off, as I had every right to be, so I said something that made him give me a dirty look and say, "Okay, okay, " as though I was the asshole: not him.  That's when my mother made the scene.  She's an attention whore.  She saw me talking to someone, and she had to get involved.  She desperately needs attention.  The situation was explained to her, but instead of being angry at the man for accusing her son of being a criminal, she had a friendly chat with him, because attention is more important to her than her son is.
You might be thinking, that's not so bad.  Well, I know my mother, and I know she's stupid, lazy, uncaring, and selfish.
I'll tell another story about her.  As a teen, I was molested by a male family member because she failed to protect me.  She knew he was gay, but she allowed him to sleep in the same room as me.  Now, I know that being gay doesn't make you a child molester, but this one was.  I told no one about it until after he died.  Then I told my mother.  Every time I mentioned it to her, I've been disappointed with her reactions.  I don't know if she doesn't believe me or what the problem is.  When I went to stay with her, after my suicide attempt, I saw a certain picture displayed proudly on her bookcase: a framed photo of my molester.  It wasn't just him; his sisters were in it too, but what sort of a mother would display a picture of her son's molester in her home?  I confronted her about it, and she acted like she couldn't believe how jerky I was acting as she waddled her fat ass over to the photo and put it in a drawer.  What a piece of shit.             

Garbage Society

 
I can only speak for the American society, because that is where I have lived my entire life, but I suspect societies in other nations are quite similar.
Nature is perfect.  Nature is beautiful.  Sure, violence exists in nature, and it certainly exists in our society.  But this is a violent world.  It always has been, and it probably always will be.  But our society sucks compared to nature.
Society is very hypocritical.  Murder is a serious crime.  Thou shalt not kill is a commandment.  But animals are killed, unnecessarily, on a massive scale.  It's also okay to kill during war.  In fact, the more foreigners you kill, the more of a hero you are.
Society is not fair.  In the wild, life is more fair than human society.  It's simple: survival of the fittest.  Conservatives like to pretend life in our society is fair, but this is the problem.  Some people are born into a situation in which there is no father and the mother is an abusive crack whore.  Many people are born into situations in which their parent(s) are lazy, stupid, or uncaring.  Other people have parents that are intelligent, successful, and caring.  Perhaps they feel as though if their sons or daughters are failing, then they are failing.
So we're not all dealt the same hand.  I pretty much fall into the middle category.  I am the result of a teenage pregnancy.  I was not wanted.  I was, as my mother once told me, "a mistake."  How am I a mistake, when you're the one that made the mistake?  My father left my mother and me when I was 2 years old.  My mother is stupid, lazy, and uncaring.  I come from a cold family that, I believe, has a history of mental illness.  What I find to be interesting is that I have 3 cousins, and we're all in our 30s and 40s.  None of us have children.  The odds are certainly against that.  I think we all know we come from a crazy family, and we shouldn't pass the insanity on.  People that come from situations like mine (and worse) have lived miserable lives in poverty, prison, and they have committed suicide.
And, of course, there is the treatment of animals.  Humans have decided that animals are here for them to use in any way they see fit.  Again, people don't need to eat meat to survive.  The healthiest foods to eat are veggies, fruits, nuts, seeds, beans, and whole grains.  In our capitalistic society, animals are things to make a profit from.  "Food" animals, like pigs and chickens, are crammed into buildings, as many as possible, because that is the way that will make the most money.  They frequently aren't given needed medical care, because it would cost money to alleviate their suffering.
I could go further, but I'm making too many keyboard gaffes, and I'm over it.       

Please Buy My Book

This is the cover of my book.

There are many thoughts, emotions, and experiences I could express right now, but, first and foremost, I'm asking you to please buy my book.  It's an eBook, and it is readable on Kindle, smartphones, and tablets.  It only costs a few dollars on Amazon, and it's here:
http://www.amazon.com/dp/B00HQSO9RO
I have no job.  I realize that many writers have had to hold down jobs to pay the bills.  The problem is I can't get one.  Even though I am a vegan, I literally became desperate enough to apply to work at McDonald's.  I did not hear back from them: at all.  I have applied for many jobs and received no reply.  I am broke and living off credit cards: going further and further into debt every time I buy necessities like food.  This is not your problem, and I'm not implying that it is.  I put a lot of work into this book, and I believe it is a very interesting and entertaining read.  It is also available on other countries' Amazon websites.  The title is American Loser: A Memoir of not Even Coming Close to Achieving the American Dream, and the author's name is Zach Murphy.
Perhaps one of the points I made in the book is valid.  The book is a memoir, but I'm a bit of a philosopher, so there's some philosophy in there too.  I've gone on quite a bit here (and elsewhere) that I think way too many people have brought way too many other people into this world.  I think 7 and a half billion (or whatever it is now-probably more) people on this planet is way, way, way too much.  Since so many people procreate, it is common, not special, to be a human being.  I believe it should be special to be a human being.  Perhaps there are only a finite number of jobs this world can offer.  Maybe people are just adding to the population in a way that's out of control and irresponsible.  You can accuse me of being a whining crybaby, but you can't accuse me of being a hypocrite when it comes to this issue.  I have never brought a baby, or animal, into this overcrowded world.  I know, that when I apply for a job, I'm probably competing against a lot of other people.  Back to the main point I was making.  I believe in the law of supply and demand.  I think it applies to people as well.  The more people there are, the less each individual is worth.  So many people apply for a job, that the employer can easily pass me over, because there are so many choices.  Because there are so many people in the world, many, like me, become disposable.
An obvious issue is that life simply isn't fair.  Some parents help their sons and daughters greatly to succeed.  They seem to feel as though if their sons and daughters have failed, then they themselves have failed.  They never give up on them.  Others do only the bare minimum when it comes to raising their kids: not really preparing them to survive in the real world at all.  And, unfortunately, far too many people come from abusive and/or incompetent families.  People have obviously been unlucky enough to have a drug-addicted prostitute for a mother.  I've had lots of thoughts about biological parenthood, but a recent one chilled me to the bone.  I simply imagined how many stupid and/or lazy people have brought babies into this world.