I Ain't Afraid of No Daleks

An angst post. Don't read this if you don't like this sort of thing.

Wouldn't you know it? I just got really comfy and sleepy--and my alarm went off. That's the way the old cookie crumbles, I guess. And now I've got to hike back to work in 25 minutes, for another four hours of verbal abuse from my fellow Americans. That's the way the ol' Mickey mumbles, I guess.

I'm trying so hard not the think too much about what's going to happen to me. But...I look at my three happy cats, my few possessions, knowing that it's very close to ending soon---I can't help it. I cry. Every time my life starts to return to "normal," I get nailed again. It hurts so bad inside, that right now, I'd do anything to get away from the pain. it's honestly like a cancer of the spirit and soul.

I'm back to pretending to be all smiling and happy, and writing fluffy, meaningless drivel. What else can I do? I'm stymied. I have no clue how to survive, this time. I know no one wants to hear that, but it's festering inside me so, that I need to let it out before it consumes me.

I don't like to admit this, but I've just about reached the point, where, in my emotional exhaustion, I just really can't find a reason to care, anymore.

I'm sure my friends are all disappointed in me, and perhaps that's right. It's sobering to realize how little one's existence is truly worth. Someone recently implied that I was on disability because I didn't want to work--not that I've not heard that one before. Yeah. I became disabled forever, so I could sit at home and vegetate. Stupid idiots. No one in their right mind wants to be disabled--or, in my case, disabled and poor.

My social worker treats me like rubbish. No really, she does. She works right down the hall. She's one of the one's that implied that I don't want to work. We see each other in the ladies, and she won't even give me the time of day, snarky woman. That's become my nickname for her: "Snarky."

I've gone to school full-time and cared for a sick mum and a home, I've worked 7 days a week for about a month and a half, cleaned loos and tossed big rubbish bags about, done a lot of things old Snarky wouldn't be caught dead doing for a living, and I don't want to work??? Right. Pull the other one.

Back to work. I wish I had something--anything--to look forward to, hold on to...but...

ADDENDUM:

Oh good. Just checked the weather forecast--still nice temps, but...supposed to storm tomorrow night--right when I'm getting out of work. Lovely. I HATE thunderstorms! Well...that's about par for the course of my life, lately, ey?

Oi Vay! (And I'm not even Jewish!) Another e-mail from a wild, drooling David Tennant fan girl! What did I do to be cursed thusly? Whatever it is, I'll repent, I swear! Just no more fan girls, please!

Oh, I'm sure they're very nice young ladies.

Here's the latest message: (Prepare yourself)---

"Oh David, you are sooo cool and so hot! I'd think you'd look great as a model! I love you!" Erm---huh?

Forgive my puzzlement, but ummm--whatever gives these kids (I'm hoping this wasn't from an adult, that would be truly a frightening prospect) the idea that I even remotely know the guy? My total time in the UK consists of 3 hours hanging around Heathrow on New Year's eve in 2004. I have never met him, I am never going to meet him. Why would a guy like that even bother with an ugly ol' chav like me? I mean---seriously, no.

Are there actually girls out there who really think DT reads my blog? Girls, girls, girls...if any one of you thinks that DT reads my blog or that I have any contact with DT...well, does the term "sectioned" mean anything to you? Honestly--please stop sending Tennant messages through my blog. Write him through the BBC Wales. You can Google the address I'm sure, quite easily. Or, leave him a message on a Who or DT fan forum somewhere online.

Really, I'm sure Mr. Tennant's male ego is quite chuffed at all the attention, but I have no way to pass on your messages to him. Sorry.

Gee whiz. What have I gotten myself into with those daft David Tennant jokes? And I thought I was...well, you know.

Second message---

And this, I assume, was addressed to me:

"Read your blog, and I have a question. What's the big secret? Who is replacing David? Is it David Morrisey?"

Again, I have NO contact with Tennant, and the closest I've ever been in my life to a Doctor Who set, is touching the Tardis console at the USA Who exhibit and sitting in Bessie, 20 years ago! I have no contact whatsoever with ANYONE from Tennant, Dr Who, BBC...NO ONE.

As for Tennant leaving...that would be sad, but..that's life. Personally, I'd love him to stay, but if he feels he wants to leave, if Davies feels he wants to go, as well..it's their life, they can do as they please, nothing to do with me. Wonderful, talented people, and both Tennant and Davies are really shining, lately. But...how the heck would I know? I'm not even sure who this Morrisey guy is--sounds familiar and I think I can picture him, but really, is it important? If Tennant stays--love it. If a new guy has to come into the picture, well, I'm sure they'll choose someone good, they always have, I think.

I think the man's a good actor, but, gals, leave off, okay? I don't know him, don't have any inside info, I'm not even really a fan, I don't think. No more messages, okay? Please?

I have a headache. Back to work in an hour and a half, for another four hours calling that hell called middle class America..I'm having a lie down, now, before limping back to the office.

This is what consumerism is bringing us to: (A skit from the Conan O'Brien show)

HAYING TIME IN JUNE, VERMONT

All set for another 9 hour split shift today. One more day after this then, off for a blessed whole two days. Be my first two days off in a row in two weeks.

I've only been up a half-hour and already I'm knackered. I get home at about 20 past ten, make dinner, eat and relax for a while--and then midnight rolls around and I'm wide awake! So, last few nights, I've not been able to sleep until about 1 in the morning--then I have to wake around half past seven or eight, do it all over again.

Come Thursday night, when I get home, I'm tossing that Baby Ben alarm clock in the ol' sock drawer! Friday morning, I'm gonna' sleep and sleep and sleep some more. Oh, not going to sleep the whole day away, certainly, but...come Thursday night, I'm inclined to hang a sign on my apartment door, "Do not disturb on pain of death."

This walking back and forth to work twice daily, is taking its toll on my bad foot. The swelling's back up again, and I can actually feel the fracture--or so it seems, sometimes. We've some big shots coming today, and they want us to be there for a meeting at half-past four. I declined. Supervisor wasn't thrilled with me, but I put it bluntly--I leave at 3 to hobble home for lunch--takes 15 or 20 minutes just to get home, so that leaves me, essentially with a half-hour for lunch--which takes about 15 minutes to make, at least--which gives me only about 10 or 15 minutes to eat--then if I went to the meeting, which is supposed to last 30 minutes, I'd have to hang around work for an entire hour, twiddling my thumbs with naught to do, because my 2nd shift doesn't start 'till 6. No. I mean, it's not like I'm a respected employee or anything...I'm just a behind in the seat with a phone glued to my ear.

In case anyone is wondering, I don't exactly work for a Fortune 500 company (tho' I did, once, long ago). It's not a boiler room operation--quite, but it's all chav, believe me. I mean, this company saves money by making half its work-force work part-time (up to 39.5 hours), so it doesn't have to give them health care, pensions and other benefits--which they are required to give full-time employees, by state law. They won't even put in a water cooler, because it's "there's a drinking fountain down the hall (outside the office), and the employees would be getting up and down too much." Ummm--they serve coffee all day/night long, and don't have that issue-and Glens Fall's water tastes like rubbish--literally like dirt. Noooo...I really don't buy that argument. The company is just run by cheap chavs, and that's the bottom line.

Well, that time again..time to shower, change (doing something today, I have rarely done--wearing a dress without hosiery...but, the office won't spring for air conditioning and it blinking hot and stuffy in there, now that the warm weather's upon us. So, the coolest thing I've got to wear is this naff old summer dress I bought a few years back--when I weighed 20 or 25 pounds more. It will probably look like a "Fashions by Omar the Tentmaker" special, but...any port in a storm. At least I'll be comfy.

NEW YORK'S ADIRONDACK MOUNTAINS, MID-OCTOBER

Well, locally here, the start of the tourism season in only about 3 weeks away. Let's start with a Lake George cruise, on the big boat that I went to our local college's Welcome Freshman party on in 1999, the Lac Du Saint Sacrement:

And in June, besides the big Elvis Festival, and the State-wide fire chief's convention, there's the dreaded "Americade." Umm--not a motorcycle fan--nothing against most cyclists, but I'm not a person who in enamored with that kind of obnoxious noise...it's bad--a whole week of motercycles...clogging ALL the local roads, cruising all the side roads at slow speeds, making getting anywhere on time impossible for us local drivers, the constant obnoxious noise--the stupidity of some cyclists who don't get the concept of speed limits and road courtesy...ugh! Most of us locals--except those who like motorcycles, and businesses of course--hate Americade with a passion.

But...judge for yourself: Americade, Lake George. Oh Gawd, not again.

Oh yeah, thousands of roaring motorcycles--morning, noon and night, for a whole week, in a mountain holiday resort town. Fun is not the word.

The video is good, though. Like the song...good choice. Even shows one of my favourite Lake George restaurants, sort of.

*(My favourite restaurant is Taste of Poland, which is right next door-to the right in the video--of the John Barelycorn pub (green awning) and what wonderful authentic Polish food they do have. There's loads of restaurants in Lake George, but that's really my favourite, I must say, with only the resturant at the Wild West Ranch western town, as second.)

OMG!!! What an awful night. The earth must be passing through the Belt of Scurrilous, while simultainiously being showered by the metorites of Arsedom...and there's gotta' be a full moon, thrown in for good measure.

Oh yeah, got the full-bore treatment tonight: 1st call--phone receiver being repeatedly slammed against a hard object, the object of which was to deliberately hurt my ear, the silent treatment--sometimes followed by laughter, the screamers--one so loud, that she was totally incoherent, the viciously shouted DON'T CALL ME'S!, Sarcastic husbands, snarky wives, The people who, when I ask to speak to someone, simply say "No." and slam the phone in my ear, the sarcasticly repeated "hello"--you know, the mocking kind where that's ALL they say...it was bloody marvelous, let me tell you. Darwin was bang on right...at least when it comes to Americans. I HATE MY JOB!!!

It's bad enough I'm trapped in an impossibly down-spiraling life situation--but then, on top of everything, I have nights like this...okay, this is another "angst" post...depressed? Yes. Very. Still banging my head on the alley wall of life...and damn, I think if life doesn't soften up on me a little in the immediate future, I'm going to become comatose, rather soon.

Well, someone wrote me and actually told me that yes, they are planning to do David Tennant Who underpants. I'm told Mr. Tennant mentioned it on some talk show or other, over in the UK...along with the words, "my face in your crotch." He said that in public? In front of thousands--perhaps millions--of viewers? Okay. David, dear, there's a little saying we have over on my side of the pond, "too much information." I must say though, The David Tennant knickers do lend a whole new meaning to the slang term we have over here (for being drunk), "sh_tfaced."