Zen and the art of petty complaints

I’m still all quitted and stuff. I’m proud of myself again, although last night had a weird mini panic attack where I remembered some really shameful interactions I had with male people long long ago and the humiliation and self-loathing hit me hard for a few minutes and then I remembered, oh yeah I do lots of things like that, I just won’t do them any more, and man you had forgotten about that… Just bury it again.

If I remember my teenage years and unfortunately I remember most of them, it’s just one big red blush. I was so foolish, even more foolish than I have been of late.

I think my 15 year old self would be amazed at me. I’m getting a divorce and living in a country I hate doing a not very impressive job, with very few friends, but I know my 15 year old self would think I did pretty well considering how bleak things looked back then.

Anyway, it was only a mini panic, I got over it pretty quickly and got up, had a banana milkshake which I was too impatient to liquidise properly so it wasn’t great actually….

But meh.. I’m doing ok, I managed to lose weight and so far so good I haven’t smoked since last Tuesday or maybe Wednesday I think my pathological lying is making it hard to remember what was the real last day. But it’s good anyway.

All I have to do now is sort out my posture, sort out my teeth which are yellowish and don’t smell too nifty, and go to the gynocologist because it’s really bad but I have never been. I’m too afraid. I’m afraid they gyno will tell me I have cancer in my womb or something, and that I can’t have children or something. So that’s going on my list of things I need to do also… seeing how I’m on a roll of accomplishment and shit.

I’m looking pretty dog- garned slim, my hair is clean and has been brushed fairly recently. I smell good too. I finally threw out this old can of deo that had only the CFCs left, and I got a new one and it’s pretty strong although it doesn’t smell like any kind of smell I would have chosen for my body.

I wonder why we can’t get deodorant that smells nice. Yeah I know there’s lavender sticks and citronella and all that hippie jive, but I’m a sweaty bundle of hormones.. My upper lip thinks it belongs to Salvador Dali, and my pubic region just signed a lucrative contract with a manufacturer of guitar strings.  I need some heavy duty industrial shizz to block those pesky pores from giving off that sultry musk of ripeness. And I really like the smell of some proper perfumes. Like Kenzo Amour, or Issey Miyake. Why isn’t there a deodorant that smells like that? Who puts perfume on when they’re clean? I don’t, because the top is gone off my Kenzo perfume and to get any out I have to impress a red circle onto my tender wrist flesh.

I want an expensive, classy deodorant that smells nice. My deodorant doesn’t smell like anything other than deodorant.

Anyway it’s not important, it just seems weird that the big brands are selling oh-de-toilet, and cologne, and body lotion with the nice smells and they aren’t cashing in on the deodorant market. I’m no scientist, but I don’t see why they can’t make perfume for your pitts.

And leaving that mini tangent aside, I’m disturbingly optimistic now in the lead up to Friday. Friday, the day of reckoning.

It will be my first time in the same room as a judge. I wonder do they wear wigs in Italian courts? I don’t know what to wear.

I mean I don’t have anything remotely classy that doesn’t make me look like I’m dressing up for something. I have got a pants suit but I haven’t worn it since before I had an ass. It gives camel toe if I remember correct. I would also feel like a total phoney in my suit. Like husband would see me wearing it and start sniggering. But screw him because he’ll probably show up in a hawaian shirt and the leather jacket he tied to a rope attached to his skateboard and dragged around the place to make it look all scuffed on purpose. (Yeah I’m cringeing)

Anyway I don’t know what to wear. My most business person like dress I wore on my big buying expedition like a business person is actually the dress I got married in, so it would be making some kind of weird statement to wear that to my separation hearing. I can’t poke the beasht before he signs shit. Also, I don’t even know what kind of statement that WOULD be if I were to wear the dress I got married in.

I don’t have a lot of sober outfits.

Oh maannn an girl just came into my shop all sweet looking and did a massively stinky fart, and she doesn’t even look ashamed or anything. We’re the only two people in here, and I know it wasn’t me. she’s just casually looking around with the kind of dignity I wish I could muster when I’ve just let a bad one slip out… She’s a pro, she has me doubting whether it really was her or some invisible third person. Maybe a midget came in and I didn’t see them. This has happened many times. Once when he came up to my desk I was so strartled I yelped. There was no way of recovering from that, we just stood there in an awful stalemate, I couldn’t say anything to make it not insulting. I don’t even know why it was insulting, I just know it was.

Anyway what to wear what to wear?

I saw a pair of heels I LOVE in the window of my favorite shoe shop yesterday. I am going today in the hope that they won’t have my size. But I don’t have any money in my account anyway. I have to get paid tonight I think. Until then I have 8 euro in my account and that is money I can’t withdraw because you can’t withdraw 8 euro. So I can safely go into shops and waste fake-nice shop assistants time feeling like a piece of shit because I hate people who do that to me, but then bolstering myself with indignance and you know what, fuck them, I’M A CUSTOMER, IT’S THEIR JOB! Just like real customers tell themselves to make it ok for them to smirk at the salesperson and say “I’m just gonna leave all these things I tried on with no intention to buy here in a heap so you can put them away properly, I wouldn’t want to do it WRONG”

The bastards.

Quickly, quickly:

If you have enough time to try on clothes, you have enough time to put them on the hangers. Put them on the hangers badly, if you are completely thick. I know some shops have this way of wrapping the hanging loops around and around on the hangers and I never know how to do that, so I just hang the shit the normal way. That’s fine I think, I mean I’m not trained by that shop, but I do know how to hang a shirt on a piece of wire.

If you have clothes at home, the chances are you are capable of putting an item of clothing on a hanger in some capacity.

When you try on clothes, it takes 2 seconds longer to put the item you just took off onto a hanger than it does to fling it over the door of the fitting room. And then you get to feel like a basically decent person when you hand the stuff to the girl outside.

It’s a common excuse that because it’s someone’s job, it’s no longer your responsibility. If you go to a restaurant’s toilet, there is someone whose job it is to clean up that toilet. Does that mean you should shit on the walls, or pee all over the floor? It’s someone’s job to mop up if you do, but it’s your responsibility not to. Same goes for pretty much fucking everything.

I take it a bit too far because I’m incredibly anal for someone who is both untidy and not a fan of anal.

Like I have clothes strewn all over my floor at home. The bathroom is disgusting. The kitchen smells worse than the bathroom.

But all my tights in my tights and leggings drawer are rolled up into a ball and sorted in a rainbow in order of colour and thickness.

I have a massive bag of odd socks I never feel like pairing. But I will not wear socks unless they are a pair. Even if I wash one sock and it comes out a different colour than its mate, I’ll happily wear that as a pair but by no means will I wear two similar coloured socks that were not originally a pair. I don’t know why this is, but it is.

So when I’m shopping and a shirt slips off the hanger as shirts are wont to do because hangers are shittily designed, someone needs to get in there and revolutionise the hanging world by the way, well I always put them back properly. And then when I see stuff that’s hanging wonkily that I haven’t disturbed or been near, I will right that too. People always come up to me and ask me where things are and I’m like, “HELLO? Do I LOOK like I work here?” When yes obviously I do look like I work there because I am tidying up the shop.

Anyway I was sorting my newest tights last night (I bought a few new pairs, yay!) and it struck me that the half an hour I spent putting away my tights the way I like them, I could easily spend I don’t know putting my clothes away properly or emptying the dishwasher. But those things don’t bother me the way it bothers me when my tights are getting all freaky with each other in a jumbled heap, and then I go to pull out a pair and its legs are all tangled up sordidly with other pairs and sometimes I rip a pair in my disgusted haste to untangle them.

So there you go, slow news day…

I’m holding off on the massive pendulous swings of my mood until Friday when all will become clear.

I’ll either drag myself home to blog dejectedly, or I’ll stay out all night drinking and hitting on very young men who are a little bit terrified and disgusted by me, and crawl into work the next day like death’s asshole.

Either way, emotionally I am reserving myself for this weekend.

Today is mellow.

I’m bubbling away with inticipation.  I just want to pop out and yell “YIPEE” or “Woe is me!” but it could go either way.

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2 responses to “Zen and the art of petty complaints

  1. I can relate to the anal sock sorting. I get that way with my vitamin bottles. My closet however is littered with clothing haha!
    For the court hearing maybe do you have something casual and comfortable to wear? As long as it’s kind of respectable I don’t think that it has to be overly dressy per se. Although these days I am looking for a reason to dress up lol… Dinner out anyone!?
    I know you’ll pull something suitable together. I am sending you UBER CRAZY amounts of strength to get through the days before you go to the judge. Sending positive light (crazy urban hippie me) and good happiness to you.

    I did laugh VERY loud this morning at your blog as was the first thing I read from bed on my iphone. The whole farting customer thing….my husband was on the toilet and I cracked up at your story. He thought I was laughing at him farting on the loo. It was spectacularly funny!!
    Ciao for now.

    • Vitamin bottles eh? I just have one, and I think it’s rolling around under the bed. Ha ha cool synchronisation (synchronicity?)…. Funny how when you let one slip in public, you never imagine that very fart will be shared and someone halfway around the world will be reading about it on their iphone. Kinda makes me paranoid of all the ones I thought I’d gotten away with really… Ugh comfortable… ugh casual… no all I have that is comfortable is cotton hot pants and a loose t shirt. I don’t think that’ll work. Or casual, I have some dresses that scream “this, tonight… this is just casual… no phone numbers, please” So I really don’t know….. I suppose I have a black dress that isn’t too short, that might work. Or I couuuuld buy a new dress? No. No. Anyway thanks for the crazy hippie strength! I uber appreciate it, even a cynical herb avoider like me! Only 2 more days, eek! I’m a bit of a nervous wreck but that’s partly because the fucking moths are back. I will probably write all about that later to avoid cleaning, so I won’t go into details now. Damn moths. I’m in an otherwise splendid mood though. Have no money in my account so went shopping yesterday, totally safe! It was great, I really pissed off the salespeople. Peace out

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