Preston Got Laid

"Where are you, Preston?"

"I am 2 minutes away, JP."

"Okay, well try and hurry. It is ten right now."

"I am on my way."

I stopped and had breakfast. Took my time. Sat in my car in the parking lot of the hospital. At 10:23am, Friday morning, I got out of my car, put on my red number two baseball cap, and slowly walked toward the emergency room entrance. I knew what was waiting for me. Well, I did not know the full story of what was about to happen.

I walked down the ER hallway, turned down the Transport hallway, was passing the elevators and preparing to clock in to work. JP was standing in the hallway near the time clock with the head of human resources.

"Step in here for a minute, Preston."

I was basically told that the hospital had to make a lot of cut backs and that every department had to lay off two to three employees. As I am the only technician who is not planning on working in the pharmacy for the rest of my life, I am the one who was chosen to be laid off. They said that I have first choice of jobs at any other HMA hospital. Why would I want to go and work for a corporation that had just laid me off? I hate my job, but I would like some job security. I don't know.

They told me that I am getting two weeks severance pay. I am also being given all of my sick time as I told JP that the only thing that I was worried about was the insurance. He had not thought about that. I was going to tell him that I am basically a dead man now, but thought that'd be overly melodramatic. At any rate I am getting all of my sick time on my next paycheck. Then I am getting paid the severance pay. I am kindof being given a three week paid vacation. Although after the three weeks is up I will be out of work. Monday, I have to find another job. God, this sucks.

Anyway, I am becoming a "cutter." Ya know, a self mutilator. That's what Father O'Flannigan calls it. I have cuts all up and down my left arm. It is pretty bad looking. I keep feeling like everyone that I come into contact with stares at them. I look like I have been trying and failing at slitting my wrists. Next time, I am going to stick to my inner thighs. It really is not as bad as you would think. Just looks like I got into a cat fight with an actual cat.

What else? Little Gay is stoned and being obnoxious. I HATE being around him when he is messed up. He thinks he is being all cute and funny, but it is just...grrrr. I bought Godiva and Kill Bill for myself to perk myself up about the whole job thing. I could just break down and get stoned, but I don't touch the stuff. Not to say that I never have or that on RARE occassion I don't do it. I just hate the feeling of being fucked up. It is good for about five minutes, but then, I am over it and am ready to come back down. That is why I don't do it. Alcohol on the other hand...

Father O'Flannigan wants me to write a story about him. I have to tell him one before he goes to sleep at night. Now I will tell a story for him. Father O, this is obviously for you.

Once there was a pretty, pretty, pretty princess named Father O'Flannigan. She lived in a dark, desolate kingdom known as Jacksonarnia. She was forced to live high atop a dark tower, the Tower of the Magnolias. An evil accursed troll kept watch over this pretty, pretty, pretty princess. Its name, Little Gay.

Little Gay Troll enjoyed partaking of the evil herb. Pretty, pretty, pretty princess Father O'Flannigan tried to escape many many times, but alas, the evil herb was too tempting for her. Every time pretty, pretty, pretty princess Father O'Flannigan was close to escaping, Little Gay Troll would offer the evil herb to her. She was trapped. What could she do? Where could she go? How could she escape? For that matter, COULD she escape?! It was a travesty to say the least.

After many years of being trapped by the evil herb and the Little Gay Troll, pretty, pretty, pretty princess Father O'Flannigan came up with a plan for escape. Perhaps if she gave the Little Gay Troll the one thing he wanted, he would allow her to go free. What was this one thing? It is far too terrible to even mention. Nine months later, pretty, pretty, pretty princess Father O'Flannigan gave birth to a beautiful troll baby named Guapo. Guapo was an Oompa Loompa. He was also a Jew, but that is beside the point.

Pretty, pretty, pretty princess Father O'Flannigan thought that by giving her daisy to Little Gay Troll, she may be able to buy her freedom. When that did not work, she decided that maybe, just maybe, she could give Guapo to Little Gay Troll in exchange for freedom.

Success! Luckily Little Gay Troll embraced the incestuous relationship with his tiny baby, Guapo. Afterall, it is the Jacksonarnian way. Pretty, pretty, pretty princess Father O'Flannigan was at last free and all was right in the world once more.

Unfortunately, Preston lost his job and started cutting himself. So I guess all was not right in the world.

The moral: Eat more enchilladas.

The End

Later Consuela!

Green Mushrooms

I think I am getting fired. JP called today and told me that we are having a meeting on Friday at 10 am and it is important that I am there. I was out almost all of my last work week due to illness. If I get fired, what with everything else that has been going on, I'll probably kill myself. Yes, that is a rather morbid statement to make, but it is true. I do not think I will be able to handle another major setback. Granted, I do hate my job. I am always saying that I am trying to be fired, but I am always kidding about it. I do not actually WANT to be fired, I am just a chronic complainer. I think I am going to call JP tomorrow and just ask him if I am being fired. I called work earlier to find out if anyone knows what the meeting is about and why it is so important that I am there. No one had even heard about a meeting. Yea, I am being "let go." I hate when people call it that. "Let go." It is such a stupid term for losing one's job. It is like "pulling the plug." I am not too fond of that term either. I don't know. I really am going to kill myself if I lose my job. I HAVE to keep a job. Basically, my life depends on it. I have to have insurance. Without insurance, I am just sitting around waiting to die. I cannot afford treatment and no independent insurance agency is going to insure a lepper. You sure did a great job of fucking up this life, Preston.

I used to think that I believed in reincarnation, but the more I think about that, the more I realize that I do not. I am deathly afraid of, well, death. There is no way that I can believe in reincarnation as I would not be so afraid to die if I did. Does that make sense? I mean, knowing that no matter how much you fuck up this life, you'll always be able to try again in the next sort of takes away all meaning from life for me. What is the point? It is not like in a video game where you fuck up and fall in the hole and you just pop back up on the screen and try again. Two more lives. Green mushrooms give you even more shots to make things work out. Jump. Fall. Two more. Back up. Run. Jump. Fall. One more. Back way up. Really run. Leap of faith. Never quite far enough though. Reset. Retry. No number of green mushrooms or Game Shark codes will be able to save your ass if you just CANNOT get over that hole. Some holes are impossible to make it past. I don't think that even if reincarnation is real, I would be able to do any better in the next life. I would still be reaching the same impassable holes. Still back away in preparation for my hundred yard dash/ leap of fleeting faith. Still would fall short of my mark. Again and again and again. Reset. Retry. It is frustrating.

So what is the point of life? To try and do as much, learn as much, obtain as much as you can in the short period of time that you are on this rock? If so, why bother? It is not like the things you do, learn, and obtain now will help you out one hundred years down the road. Edina Monsoon (Jennifer Saunders) on the show Absolutely Fabulous said, "Honestly, when I think of how much I've invested in this body, in this life darling. Ya know, I've had the best of everything. I've been pampered by Shapney's. I've been fed by Fortnem's. I've been shaved, plucked, and moisturized, sweety. I mean this carcass ain't croakin' or I'll sue!...I don't wanna end up as some drugged up zombie in a hospital, allright?! I want to die with a bit of dignity, ya know?! I don't want the last words I hear to be, 'SWITCH HER OFF!'" I probably mispelled the names Fortnem's and Shapney's as I do not know what either of those is. I feel pretty much the way she does. Though, I am at a point where I am realizing that since life is a pointlessly lengthy packrat session, it obviously is a meaningless waste of time. Why bother? I don't know.

I am going to stop writing now. I need to go outside and smoke.

Maybe I'll find a green mushroom.

A Purreem About Guapo and Everything Less Confusing

Guapo did not exactly work out. Cannot remember if I already told everyone that, but for those of you who may have not gotten the memo, it did not work. Basically, he said we need to slow things down. I said slow down to what. He said slow down to friends. I said, "So I can date other people?" He said I could not. I said, "So YOU want to date other people?" He again said no. I said I was confused. He said...ahem..."We are friends who go on dates with each other but no one else. We are not dating, but we cannot date other people as going on a date with someone else would be the equivalent of us breaking up and therefore no longer dating even though we are not dating we are just friends." To which I responded, "Huh?" So yea, long story short, it didn't work out.

I have been praying alot lately. I pray kind of weird. Like, I talk to God as though He were just some random friend of mine. And I noticed that I use the term "God knows" a whole lot when I am praying. As in, "I just want him to be happy, but God knows I have a thing for him." I mean obviously God knows. He is God for...His sake.?. And if somehow He did not know, I am praying to Him so obviouly He would know. I mean I just told Him, ya know. Nevermind. Lost my point.

Oh, tonight, on my way home from a nameless person's home, I prayed. I asked God to give me guidance in the situation that I find myself in currently. Most would probably accept any guidance that He is willing to give and accept it WHEN He is willing to give it. I on the other hand asked God to tell me what to do by sending me a message thru a radio station at exactly 2:23 am. The way that the station thru which said message was to be chosen was by counting the street signs on a backcountry road up until 2:23am. Not any street signs, only the yellow ones. If I counted 1-6 signs, that number represented a preset. 7-12 would be divided by two. That number was then used to select the station. Although now that I think about it, that last part makes no sense. I mean, basically I would be choosing 4-6 based on that. The only possible way to choose stations 1-3 would be if I saw exactly one, two, or three signs. Anyway, I saw eight. So at 2:23 am, I pushed preset number four, Star 93.5. Static. That station doesn't pick up when I am at my mom's which is where I was headed. Static. I think it is God's way of saying my street sign selection process was sort of confusing, made no sense whatsoever, and was basically stupid. So then I asked God to send me a message at 2:27 am on preset one, Y101.7. I anxiously awaited 2:27am. I swear that my car clock stayed at 2:26 am for like five minutes. Anyway, it did eventually change. I pushed preset one. It was a song which I had never before heard. It was near the end of the song and the chorus was repeating again and again. Remember how I mentioned my attention span issues? Yea well, I have already forgotten most of the words to the song's chorus. One line from it was something like, "We sing to never fall in love." Most of the chorus was "We sing" followed by a reason. There were maybe four reasons. They repeated them...repeatedly.?. Haha. Anyway, so yea. The chorus of that song was basically God telling me that I should be happy and stop obsessing over finding love. It will happen when it happens. Unless of course it never happens. In which case it will never happen. Anyway, I need to try and be happy with my life and the things going on in and around it. I cannot continue to hold onto resentment towards my ex-boyfriend. I should learn from my mistakes. I should have standards that I do not back down from. If I say no drugs I have to stick to that whole heartedly not half assed. If I say we've been together long enough to move in together but you still have to pay half of everything as I do not make enough money to support myself and you and your drug habits and you are almost ten years my senior and should probably be supporting my ass as that would make a little more sense even though I did not want you supporting me although a little help financially would have been nice every now and again you coked out dried up queen...deep inhale...then I should stick to that. Look, I just decided to not resent my ex-boyfriend (whom I will refer to as Anna Nicole) anymore tonight. Give me a break if it takes me more than two hours to get over hating him. I don't hate him. He just aggrivates me. In the words of Grace on 'Will and Grace', "OOOOOooooooooo... Crack whores are so sneaky!" What was I talking about before I got sidetracked? Oh right, God. God caused his *forcibly insert positive adjective here* ass to bite a scar into my stomach for a reason. That reason being so I will know better in the future than to waver one bit from my standards. That is all that I want to say about that.

What else is happening? I have been sick for a little over a week. They thought it was pneumonia, like always, but it turned out to be bronchitis, as usual. I have basically been away from work all week due to illness and stuff.

Is 5 am too early or too late to start drinking? I don't have to work for a week. Nah I am trying to get in shape. Do not need to start drinking. Jesus I am messed up. Nevermind the fact that I am sick and on antibiotics and should therefore not be drinking. Oh no! That is not a good enough reason to not get completely snot faced at 5 in the morning. My body?! Oh well that's a horse of a different color! Damn I really am on my way to being one of THOSE people that I talked about in one of my earlier entries. Whatever, my pecs look good right now as do my arms and tan. Bastard tan didn't cover my stomach bite scar. Had God and I not decided that I do not despise that evil Satan spawn of an ex of mine, I might have had to salt his mother's yard and put his car out of its misery. But I don't hate him. I am not bitter. I mean living with/off of mom at 31!?!?! Well I say he is living off his mom. It is a combination of her and his new man, some guy that he says he met two days after we broke up. I am sure. Poor bastard better hope he has a good 401K. Actually I have a strong feeling that this guy is getting social security. Not that there is anything wrong with being at that age in your life, but it is sad that some random ass Pawpaw is being taken advantage of by Anna Nicole. She's a crazy bitch. Lived in California for 7 years. Most men just buy a big car when they are overcompensating, they don't move across the country just to be in a state that is really long. I guess average size gets a regular car. Below average gets a big car. Pacifieresque size gets to move across country to really REALLY try and make up for length. Did I really stoop to this level? You bet your ass. After being told that I deserve everything that I got, everything that happened to me and I do deserve to die, I don't give a flying fuck about him or his opinion of me or how pissed he will be if he ever stumbles across this entry where I am telling the entire world that my crackwhore (literally), golddigging, abusive, insane, junkie, shitty kitty bum of an exboyfriend has a dick that could easily be shamed by that of a chihuahua. Size doesn't matter. This is true when there is at least SOME size there. I'm sorry if I am being vulgar or mean, but I was fucking a cheese puff for a year and a half. Not literally, but now that I think about it, maybe had I been I would have felt something. Anyway, enough about his pencil dick. I have basically not had sex in two years. Other than with Military Boy and this one other guy whom will remain totally random for the time being. Venting makes me feel alot better. I feel great now.

Oh and the above is not talking about Guapo. Guapo was a recent little fling thing. Anna and I split in January. That was B.C. or Before Consuela.

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"Guapo's an Oompa Loompa"
by Preston (No shit)

Oompa loompa doompity doo
Yes you're a midget but are you a Jew?
Oompa loompa doompity dee
You've got your architecture degree.
Must you insist on saying "ass face"?
You should keep quiet. Remember your place.
Do you know where mouthy midgets go?
Ask little Timmy from that Pas-sions show.
(Timmy hates the wa-ah-sher)
Oompa loompa doompity dah
Dri-ving around in your Munchkinland car.
You're overcom-pen-sating, it's true.
O-ppressed Oompa Loompa doompity do.
(Travel size Jew.)
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That's all I have to say. It is 5:38am now and I need to sleep. Plus I want a cigarette and am out of them and keep eating soas to try and supress the craving.

Later Consuela.