A brief summarization detailing the events and interactions of my life in 2012
This is going to be a very long post, as it took over 4 hours to write
Kudos to those who choose to read it
You'll probably regret it if you do
Probably going to be a lot of typos, but I ain't spending the time to proof read this son of a bitch
January
January was a good enough month. Actually, all things considered, it was a good month. It wasn't completely terrible is what I'm trying to say. If I were a woman, this would not be the month I got my period. I think that's how that works? They get their periods every few months? Like whenever there is a full moon or something? Idk
My parents travelled away for work at the beginning of the month, so between January-June, I lived by myself. Just me and my dog. I was upset at first that I had to take care of the dog, but as the time passed, we formed such a complex and emotional bond that I really don't think I would have survived without him.
I was still working at Wal-mart. I had a friend there too. It was pretty cool. We ate supper together. Had some talks. There were a few occasions where we even travelled to places after work.
I had to buy my own groceries. They consisted of nothing but junk and frozen food. I had take-out multiple times a week. I started a collection of pizza boxes. It was a work of art. I constructed an abstract design piece of the cardboard boxes, and nearly transformed my entire basement into nothing short of a architectural masterpiece.
I re-watched a few old shows (dragonball-z, alcatraz), and it was a pretty good experience. Me and my dog watched Goku fuck shit up for weeks. It was a grand old time.
February
Ruary? February. Idk. I initially had this spelled as Febuary, but apparently that is incorrect. Pretty sure it has always been Febuary. Not sure who decided to change it. I don't remember much about Febuary, other than the time I ran out of oil. The only time I made a journey down into the basement was to work on my pizza box project, and I was always so busy and what not, I never even thought to check the oil tank to see if I was running low. But one day I woke up especially cold; penis extra shrivelled. I knew something was up. Not my penis, but something. Yep, I had used all of the god damn oil all right. I didn't even have time to deal with this, as I had to get ready for work, so I hopped in the shower, and to my surprise, the shit was cold. I waited for about 5 minutes, and it didn't warm up. I was horrified. How the fuck was I supposed to know that no oil= no hot water? How is somebody supposed to make such a connection?
So I called my dad up. He wasn't happy. I figured I'd just call the oil place and get some more, but he had other plans. Plans that prolonged my suffering and increased the potential risk of dying from hypothermia. He said that where the tank had gone completely empty, it needed to be "Bleeded" before getting some more. The fuck? I didn't even understand any of it. He said he would make some calls though, and try to find somebody to come and "bleed' the oil tank. It was expensive to do such a procedure, apparently
So whatever.
So I spent the next two days in the cold. I was wrapped up in about 6 blankets. I made my dog sleep on top of me for extra warmth. I would rotate his body according to what limb of mine was coldest.
I briefly considered sleeping outside in the snow, as it seemed like it would be warmer out there. Good times were not had.
I spent the next few days boiling water to wash my hair. It wasn't good. Not good at all. It was always too god damn hot. I tested the water out on my hand first, and it was always lukewarm. Then I'd shampoo my hair, and dump that shit on my head, and it fucking burned. I was surprised my hair didn't melt into my scalp. Fuck. Fucking kettle. I exchanged some words to the piece of shit Black and Decker and we went our separate ways after that.
My dad finally called a few days later with some information. Valuable information. He had found someone who could bleed the oil tank. Praise Jesus.
As it turned out, my sisters boyfriend was able to perform such a task. As luck would have it, my dad called him on one of the rare days where he was sober. We exchanged phone numbers, and set a date.
The day he was to come over was a bad day. I had only realized that the oil tank was in the basement, right behind my work of art. My sisters boyfriend was already on the way when I made this realization, and I had to make a very tough judgement call.
Have him see what I had been doing with my life without my parents, and risk him considering seeking mental help on my behalf, or tear a mother fucker down. I shed some tears that day, but it had to be done.
I crumpled all of it up into a garbage bag, and that was that.
He came over and bled it. It was a simple as cake thing to do. He twisted this little knob here and there, and a bunch of red fluid came squirting out. I'm noticing this is the second time I'm creating imagery of a woman on her period and I'm only on February. This may or may not be an indication of what the rest of my year was like.
So yeah. We did that. It only took 5 minutes, then I ordered some of that fine ass black liquid and went on with my day.
I now consider myself fully trained and capable of repairing Oil Tanks.
March
My birthday was in March. I spent that evening scratching scratch tickets and listening to the radio. This was the highlight of the month.
Not a bad month.
April
Man, what a fucking month. I should warn you now that this little report of my year is seriously going to go in a downward spiral of the nasty variety. You may want to skip this one.
So I had pretty much spent January- March by myself. I didn't have any visitors. Actually, I might have. I don't know. I didn't answer the door or the phone. Actually, now that I think about it, I did answer the door once. And it was only because I was walking passed the door at the time of the knock, and I had feared that the visitor had already seen me through the glass.
As it turned out, it was some indian. I think, I'm not exactly at liberty to say. He was definitely black. That was my first impression of the man, anyway.
He handed me a card, and I glanced at it. I can't remember exactly what it said, but it was some stuff about god. There was a website listed and a few quotes of inspiration about the bible and what not.
I was in my underwear I should also mention. It's important to note that the only time I wasn't in my underwear was while I was at Wal-Mart. Well, I was in underwear. But I had pants on.
And the door was open. I was standing in the doorway in my underwear, (coca-cola boxers that had "Pat" stitched on the behind), and all I could feel was the coldness rushing up my body. This guy was talking away and shit about God or something.
I couldn't just slam the door in his face. So I had to stand there and listen. And listened I did.
I didn't understand most of it, what with him being indian or black and all and having this big accent, but I tried. When he finally finished his speech, I pledged to check out the website. I didn't. I still have the card though I think.
But yeah
So I got this call in April, from a man named Rod. Skinny guy, glasses. Kinda freaky looking, to tell you the truth. He was good friends with my parents.
Apparently, my dad had borrowed Rods staple gun, and it was of crucial importance that he get this back. He phoned 6 times in the span of a week before I finally answered it.
When he told me that he needed the staple gun, I just told him I didn't know where it was, or anything. I told him to phone my dad.
So that was that. A few days pass, and there's a knock on the door. It was some loud god damn knocking too, that's the only reason I even noticed it. Loud. Fucking shit. I was tempted to answer because it appeared to be important, but I got so angry and irritated with the sound of the knocking, I decided to ignore it out of spite.
A few hours later, I get a call. Fucking rod again. Tells me he was by earlier to get his staple gun.
He tells me he'll be back again tomorrow. Well ok Rod, I don't know where the motherfuck your staple gun is, and clearly I'm hiding it from you, but sure, you come tomorrow and search my house for it.
I was angry about this, you see. I didn't want anyone in the house. For a simple reason. The stank. Oh god, the stank.
Before you judge, let me explain.
I worked long days at Wal-Mart. I worked with a bunch of dipshits who would always leave before our jobs were done, and I was the only one who'd stay and help them out. It's funny, because Wal-Mart kind of fucked me over in the next month to come, but whatever. I bleed blue. And Wal-Mart was my family.
Point is, I was there most of the day. Between 2:30-12:00 I was usually there.
Now, as I mentioned previously, it was just me and my dog living on our own. So from 2:30-12:00 every day, the dog was completely by himself in the house all day, Completely alone
It broke my heart every single day to leave him there, but I had no choice.
Now you may be wondering. Pat, where is the nasty shit?
Well, I don't know if you've owned a dog before, but they shit, and piss. Everywhere, every time, forever. Now, I tried my best. I took him outside to do his business whenever I was home. But you have to understand that for 9-10 hours a day, the poor dog simply had no other option but to do his business on the floor.
So every night, I would come home to a floor filled with piss and shit.
It wasn't so bad at first. but it worsened. Believe me. Coming home every day from a hard day's work, knowing on the drive home that the only thing awaiting me was a bunch of literal shit on the floor, it was hard.
It was very hard. I did good for a while. But you have to put yourself in my position. There were a few times when I came home, and was so tired and exhausted, that I just fell asleep right away, and just left the piss/shit there.
And there were a few occasions where the piss and shit accumulated for a few days. At the worst point, I had to get rubber boots to clean it up, because I couldn't walk anywhere without stepping in piss.
So
As it happens, fucking Rod decided he needed his god damn staple gun during the sad part of my life where I was simply too fucking tired to clean up my dogs piss. And that shit sticks. Let me tell you
There was piss stuck on the floor, and there was just fur everywhere. Oh man it was bad
Holy motherfuck
So Rod calls me and tells me he's on his way over, and there's still fucking piss everywhere. I had just woken up and my hair was still messy and greasy. I fucking jumped out of bed, shoved on my rubber boots and went to fucking town on that piss.
I didn't know where to start at first. I contemplated googling "methods of effective cleaning of mass dog urine" but figured it wouldn't heed much results.
In the end, I just got a big ol bowl and a cloth, and just started scrubbing. The stink man, God the stink. Just stink everywhere
Like, you walked into the house and all you could think was "there's a house in this stink"
So I'm scrubbing away, and I get about half of it cleaned up when I hear the knock. My heart started racing. I couldn't answer the door, but he knew for a fact I was home, and expecting him.
Holy shit I thought I was going to die. I did nothing but stand there still, not moving at all with a sponge full of piss for 5 minutes as he pounded at the poor.
I could tell he was pissed. He had wasted at least 15$ worth of gas driving here and back 2-3 times.
But he finally left. What a relief. I decided to take a break after that. I didn't have much left to do
So a few hours later, I get a call from Glenda, Rods wife. We chit chat for 10 minutes, catching up and what not. Basically the conversation went like this
"Parents home yet?" "Nope" "Ah."
I don't know how it dragged out to 10+ minutes. But it did, and that's when I heard the knock. Fuck
It was loud. Glenda heard it. She told me it was probably Rod, as he had just left to come back here.
This bitch. This fucking bitch had me trapped. She had me on the phone so they knew I was here. Fucking FUCK
I almost made her a death threat over the phone. I envisioned killing her with that fucking staple gun. WHAT KIND OF GOD DAMN URGENCY REQUIRES A STAPLE GUN HOLY SHIT
I had to think fast. Half of the floor was still covered in piss.
There was only one thing I could think of.
I hung up the phone, and went out the back door.
I saw Rod around the corner, banging on the front door, fumes coming from his ears.
"Oh hey, Rod! Didn't hear you there, you wanna come in now and look?"
I started walking to the back door. I was scared as fuck, but it worked. The motherfucker followed me to the back door, and we went in that way. Now all I had to do was prevent him from walking towards the living room, aka, the battleground
I told him that the staple gun was most likely in the basement, with the rest of my dads tools. I kited him down there and we looked. I prayed to God the entire time that it'd be there. I thought about finding that card the Indian gave me and clinging to it for dear life. This was revenge. This was my punishment for ignoring his words of God. And how I wished I hadn't.
We didn't find it.
He started walking back upstairs, and turned to the kitchen
Holy fuck, holy fuck, holy fuck. He may have smelled in the kitchen, I'm not sure. It was pretty close
I seriously contemplated pushing him down the stairs to prevent him from finding my horrifying secret
But he backed off and turned towards the door.
"Guess it's not here", he said, in a bitter tone. Perhaps suggesting that I had tricked him, and had hid the staple gun.
And that was that.
Never again did I miss cleaning up after my dog.
May
May. No more snow, no more cold.
I had no quarrel with this beauty of a month
My parents were coming home next month, and I was excited and sad at the same time
At this point, me and my dog were best friends. I'm not using that phrase lightly either. We were connected. He knew my secrets and I knew his. All either of us had in this entire world was each other. We were connected. If my dog was a twenty year old female, we probably would have already had sex by now. But alas, it was a dog. And as far as I know, it stayed that way.
Not much happened in May
I'll get back to Wal-Mart kind of fucking me over though.
So I started out as an unloader, unloading freight from trucks with a few other guys. I loved it. I had made a friend (and, as it turned out, an enemy (I'll get back to this later)) during this job and really enjoyed going there
And it was at the start of May when Morley motherfucking Ford, Store manager, aka "The Chief", aka, "Look at me, I've spent 25 years at Wal-Mart", aka King of the fucking Universe invited me to have a chat with him
Basically, he wanted me to do a different job. A job that was really important to the store (read: makes him look good), and a job I was really good at. It wasn't that I was good at this job in particular, I was just hard working at any job I did there.
The person who was currently doing the job, was a cunt. That's not even a good enough word to describe him, but I'm running out of swear words. He was a piece of shit
A fat, stinky piece of shit. Fucking slob was what he was.
I consider myself a nice person, and would never hate on someone just because they're overweight or something (I'm a fatass), but this motherfucker was a slob. He bragged about his obesity. Honestly.
He knew immediately that I didn't like him, and he would go around bragging about being 250 pounds. There was one time where he was like "Pat, get the fuck out of my way. I'm 250 pounds and there's no way you're stopping me"
He seems to think being a fat tub of shit is some sort of accomplishment. On his lunch break, he would sit down in the break room, where there were 20 other associates, and just fucking pig out. He would buy a tub of ice cream, chocolate fudge, and m&m's and just mix it all together. All in front of everyone else who worked at Wal-Mart. He would create this sick fuck of a creation of slimy black diabetes in liquid form and suck it down like a god damn vacuum cleaner
I kid you not, he would do this at least a few times a week
And then there were the times with the cheese. The fucking cheese.
He would buy a bottle of salsa, a big ol' block of cheese and a bag of tostitos. I know I got into some nasty shit up there about my dogs piss, but this, this was truly repulsive. He would shread the cheese, put it in the salsa, and just shake the salsa jar really hard, so that the cheese would mix in there. Then he'd haul out the fucking tostitos, eat them plain, and then DRINK THE FUCKING SALSA OUT OF THE JAR
I honestly know no words to accurately describe the shear horror I felt witnessing this.
Anyway
The point is, the fucking guy sucked. He was an asshole, completely rude and obnoxious, and above all else, lazy as fuck.
As it turned out, he was the one who had this super important job, the job that would made Morley look good if done right.
And this is why he came to me. The tub of shit named Nick was making him look bad, so he wanted me to take over.
It was a shitty job and I hated it. I really didn't want to do it, and I had already told my supervisor I didn't want to do it.
But mr "I'm the god damn master of retail" wouldn't take no for an answer
He went on an ego trip, about how he was making six figures, and how I could have his job one day, if I did this job for him
He kissed my ass, is what I'm saying.
And I won't lie, I didn't want to say no to him. I'm only saying all this stuff about him because I'm online. I'm scared as fuck of him in person. He is one intimidating motherfucker.
So he backed me into a corner. I could either take this shitty job that I already said no to, or be on the bad side of the store manager.
I didn't have much choice.
So I started this new job. And I fucking hated it. and it sucked. And the nice months finally ended, and the bad ones came.
I would rather live in a house with piss everywhere for life than to do this job. But I had no choice.
So I guess that's when 2012 took a turn for the worse.
One fond memory I have of May is buying my new computer and D3. It was a super exciting night,, coming home, waiting for the servers to go live. I ate chicken casserole that night. It was a good night
Too bad the game fucking sucked though
So yeah