White Trash Scum

You sit around and act
Like you're better than me
You beat your woman in fact
She turns around and beats you back

You drank the beer that I bought
And talk shit behind my back
Your girlfriends are fucking whores
Your sad life just a bore

You all do meth or cocaine
You only have yourself to blame
I would do them too
If I lived a white trash life like you

You think you're the best
At everything you do
Take yourself down a few steps
And realize that you're not the best

You say I'm just a piece of shit
In the end you took just one hit
To make you drop like a ton
I'll tell you what, it was a whole lot of fun

I guess you're better than me
You make me realize what I could be
You're just the bigger man
And I'm your number one fan

Please show me your ways
So I can be just like you one day

Wish

I wish I could sleep next to her. I slept so well with her next to me last night. She curled all of her limbs to me this morning. Smile.

Love, J.T.

As I sit here with too much beer too drink, my love has cried herself to sleep behind me. I wish I knew why she did. Radiohead is playing on the computer while I write this. "All I Need" played while she laid there crying. That is supposed be our song.

She laid there crying, not knowing why. I hold her until she falls asleep. I still lay there holding her. I almost fall asleep, thinking, why? Why is she crying? While she cries I tell her, "I love you Bay-bes." She cries harder. Does she cry because I say that? I feel she doesn't like me saying that.

Before she started crying, she kept on saying that she loves me. Is this the vodka (I bought her) saying that? Or is it her saying that?

People say that alcohol makes people say what the really "feel."

She said, "I love jooce," earlier today.

It really confuses me when she says that.

I say, "I love jooce too." Does that mean she loves me?

Sunday is Valentines Day and our two month anniversary. I got my shift covered at work. I want to take her to a fancy dinner to show her that I love her. I feel like this is the only way to show her I love her. I want to buy her everything.

But, I'll have this night in the back of my head. When she says she "loves me", in her drunken slur, does she really mean it?

She asks me, "How much do you love me?"

I say, "As much as humanly possible."

She says, "I only love you this much." Holding her pointer finger and her thumb one inch apart.

I sit here writing this blog off the top of my head while I have a PBR sitting next to me. I hope she doesn't get mad at me for writing this. I am drunk.

I drink too much.

I love her. I don't like to see her cry.

I've seen her cry once before. Her best friend came to visit her. My girlfriend and her friend came and hung out with my "friends." Everything was going great. She goes to the bathroom. I follow. She comes out. She comes out and gives me a peck (Me? I'm blushing inside. I don't think she knew that). She and her friend smoke weed. They leave.

I am drunk. She calls me. She's crying. I tell her that I am coming over. I get a ride. I get into her apartment complex. I see her sitting in her car. I knock on the window and she unlocks the door. We start talking about why she's sad. I get the car keys from her friend so I could turn on the heater. It was fucking cold in there.

I go back down and we talk more. She cries more. I want to cry too. I want her to be happy. We talk and talk and talk. We fall asleep. I wake up early, to her shivering, and I give her my jacket. I lay there shivering... happy. She's warm.

I don't know why I am writing this. I just hope she is happy being with me. She told me this morning that one of her ex-boyfriends woke her up once and she started crying. Because she didn't want to see him. I hope she didn't cry tonight because I told her that I love her.

I drink more. I write more. I ramble more. The more I stop to to think. The more I want to stop thinking. The more I want to know why. The more I float away from reality. The more I want her to love me.

Love,
J.T.

I Hope. I wish. I Want

So when I wrote this I was making waffle cones at my dead end job, Basking Robbins.This blog is gonna be about things that have been bothering/ annoying me and little rants on why they've been. So here it goes.

Lets start with my job at Basking Robbins. I don't hate or get annoyed with anyone I work with or even the owners and their son. I mean their son gave me a free bike for doing really nothing at all. It just really annoys me how they hired a new person to take the place of the manager that left. There are people I work with that have been there for around two years. I even should get the manager position, because I have full availability and know how to do everything. They shouldn't have hired this person and gave one of the people already there the hours. I could use the hours. I really need the hours. There's this fucking memo saying, "Due to lack of business, we have to cut everyone's hours." Why the fuck would they hire somebody then? They just bought out the offices behind the store. You would think if you need to cut everyone's hours, you wouldn't hire anyone or buy offices when you already have one. It doesn't make sense to me. The day the owners son said he would give me a bike, he also said he would try to put me salary. I told that would be great! He was gonna see wheat he could do. So that was a little over a month ago and still no salary. It would be really awesome if I got it, because as of right now, I'm staying on my friend couch in his mom's house.

Subject number two, my friends. Ever since I could remember I have been the kid that would let friends come over whenever they wanted. They could do and eat whatever too. That lasted all the way through high school and up until now. I've been the friend that would try to help out friends whenever I could. I've let friends stay with me for as long as they needed, rent free. I would pay for food and the majority of the beer. When I worked at Safeway, I would bring home steaks for a group of my friends and cook them dinner. I would serve their food first before I would serve myself. There were nights that I wouldn't eat because some random friend would come over while I was cooking or a friend would bring their girlfriend. In my mind, I am a good friend. But, when I started doing the things that I wanted or started not paying for things for them, I was being inconsiderate. When I had food stamps, I would pay for all the food in the apartment I was living in and half of the rent and utilities. I did all of this while sleeping on the floor of the living room floor. Some of the food I would buy would go to my roommate's girlfriend. That kinda annoyed me, but I never really said anything because he would just think I was being inconsiderate. When I got kicked out he brought up the fact that my girlfriend would eat food at the apartment. He said she was eating "our" food. I had this thought in the back of my head about all the times his girlfriend came over and ate the food I bought and all the times he would borrow my card and go get food for him and his girlfriend. My girlfriend even bought him food sometimes. In the end, my friends have walked all over me for years. They've gone form stealing around $700 form me to kicking me out on the street to using for rides (when I had my car). They never even gave me gas money.

I don't understand her sometimes. I want to make her dinner. I want to do everything for her. I hate when my girlfriend has to pay for things. I want to be able to buy anything she want. I want to buy her presents at random so I can make her smile. I want to make her happy. I hope someday she'll love me as much as I love her.

Basically the things I've talked about are all thing the I've let happen to me and never did anything to fix them, or at least when I tried if just make things worse.

I'm 21 and don't have a damn thing to show for it. I work at an ice cream shop making $7.50 a hour and getting just over twenty hours a week. I no longer have my drivers license due to my drinking. I drink too much. I let people let people walk over me. I can't handle my money very well. I live on my friend's couch in his mom's house. I'm broke. I was much more successful when I was 18 than I am now. I know I'm not a very good writer and nobody will probably read this. I'm boring and not very smart. I don't go to college. I wish I could be good at something. I have an obsessive personality. I smoke too much. I act like things don't bother me, but there are things that bother me. I just rarely say they do. As I sit here on the bus, going downtown to see the girl I love, there is a blind guy with his seeing eye dog and it makes me sad. His dog, a hundred pound German Sheppard, lifts up one of his paws and puts it on the blind guy's lap. The blind guy puts his head down to the god and whispers. The dog looks up and licks his face, in love. I really want to see my puppy, Brandy. I haven't seen her months. I miss her. I miss my parents. I miss a lot of things. After writing this, I realize that all of this my fault and I'm trying to fix it. I hope. I wish. I want.

The Plastic Baby

So way back in my freshman year in high school I had a class called, Life Connections. My friends and I thought it was gonna be some easy class, so we all signed up for it in the same period, sixth period. The class ended up being really easy. The purpose of this class was to get us ready for the "real world" after high school. It didn't. They taught us some basic cooking techniques, tips for job interviews (they obviously didn't foresee this economic crisis we are in now, haha), and other random things.

It was about three quarters the way into to the year and got to the section of the class about raising a baby. We have all heard about the class where the students got to take home a plastic baby for a day or over the weekend if they wanted to gain some extra credit. This was that class. These plastic babies where programmed to start crying at random times to represent if it was hungry or had to have it's diaper changed. It came with a key to insert into it's back for a certain amount of time until it stopped crying. This was that class. I did not mind taking home a plastic baby for one night. I mean, how tough could it be?

Well the day had finally came for my turn to take home a plastic baby. I was pretty stoked on the idea because I had some friends do it in the day prior to mine and they said it was a piece of cake. The teacher called my name and I went up to her desk to get one of those plastic babies so she can program it and show me what I had to do if it starts to cry. She asked me what race did I want the plastic baby to be. So I decided to go with the mixed race baby, because my friend Latice, who is black, said she wanted to act like it was our baby for a joke. I was ok with that and got the mixed plastic baby.

The bell finally rings and I grab the plastic baby and the baby carrier that comes with it and head to the locker rooms. I was on the baseball team my freshman year and was required to bring to baby everywhere. So I brought it with me to the game. While I was on the field or at bat my teammates would through baseballs at it and that would make it cry. My coaches started to get very annoyed at it. I was having a shitty game and I stroke out a couple of times that game. It was about the fifth inning and my team was out on the field. I was playing first base and there was a simple ground ball hit to the third baseman. He fielded the with and attempted to throw the ball to me. It was a horrible throw and it hit the ground and went over my glove and hit me in my upper lip.

I was a bit stunned but managed to run to the ball and throw it back to the pitcher. Everyone was giving me this look of shock. I had know idea what they where looking at until I looked down at my jersey. It was covered and blood and I was forced to stop playing because of the blood on my jersey. I got really upset when they told me this because I was next up at bat the next time we went in. Just to remind you, the plastic baby I was supposed to be taking care of was still in the dugout. The sports doctor at my school told I needed to go to the hospital and get stitches for my lip. My mom drove across town and picked me and plastic baby up.

The bleeding was finally starting to slow about a block away from ER and the plastic baby was sitting peacefully in the back seat of the truck. We pull into a parking spot and get out. My mom asked me if I wanted to take the plastic baby into the hospital. I was like, "Are you kidding me? I'm not taking that thing in with us." So I just left it in the truck. Bad Idea.

I get done at the hospital and go back to the truck and see the plastic baby the way I left it when I went in. My mom and I go back home and I fall asleep on my parents couch. That damn plastic baby woke me up at two in the morning. I fumbled around in my bag and found the key to make it shut up the hell up. I fall back asleep. Only to woken up again at five to my parents squeezing the plastic baby's head to make it look like an alien. I just stopped caring at that point and wanted to take that fucking thing back to my class.

I get to school and go up to the class and explain what happened to my face. She seemed very sympathetic. I gave her the plastic baby and she pulled to little computer thing out of it's back and plugs it in the computer. She reads off the data. Apparently it cried for a total of four and half hours, or something along those lines, and had like eight head traumas. I thought my teacher was gonna me a break considering I was in the hospital for about four hours. She didn't give a fuck about my story. I told her that I was bleeding from my face and had to get stitches, so I left the plastic baby in my mom's truck. She asked me, "What if it was a "real" baby?" My jaw just fell to the ground. What if it was a "real" baby?! WHAT IF IT WAS A "REAL" BABY?!!!! FUCK YOU!!! I WAS BLEEDING IN THE FACE!!! I actually didn't say that, but i definitely thought it. I kept on begging her to give me another chance and she just kept on saying that I fail that assignment. I left that room that morning with my head down. Oh well I still got high that morning and went on with my day like nothing happened. Haha.

This was my experience with that fucking plastic baby.

Today

So last night about 6:45 I called my "roommate" to see why he called my girlfriend earlier. He told me that I had to leave the apartment that I was living in with him since last July. I have been living on the living room floor. He told me that I had to stop living there because a couple days earlier we received a ten-day notice of eviction due to me living there and not being on the lease. I did not tell him that we got it and he found out when he went to the office to pay rent of something. I was supposed to put my name on the lease and the whole thing would have been taken care of, but now he does not want me living there anymore. So, my girlfriend took me home at about midnight and when I went into the apartment he was not there. I was like, "Sweet. I don't have to deal with him at the moment and I can go to bed and get up in the morning without any thing happening." But I was wrong. My roommate came home at about 2am. He had this look of confusion on his face. So he came in and he said, "Why the fuck are you doing here? You know I told you not to come here." Or something along those lines. I told him I had work at 9:30 the next morning and I had nowhere to go. He still insisted on trying to kick me out at 2 in the morning. I told him that it's kind of hard trying to find somewhere to live in a matter of hours. He ended up letting sleep on the ground in the living room.

This morning I woke up and went to work and had such a shitty day. I was consistently behind schedule because we had to defrost the dipping cabinets. Now, finding out I'm homeless the night before plus having a bad day at work plus not seeing my girlfriend (even though i told her i would ride my bike downtown to her) equals out to be a pretty shitty day. Oh well. At least my other friend is letting me stay with him until I can get back on my feet.

On a kinda side note. I think my old roommate and another friend have been thinking about getting a 2 bedroom apartment for a while now. So I guess my friend was thinking about kicking me out for the past month or so.

Aren't having "best friends" great????????