Losing it

I'm in the Becky Club... and you're not

rjcannon85@gmail.com (Losing It) — Thu, 12 Nov 2009 21:34:00 +0000

But if you're a blogger whose name is Becky or some variation of Becky, please contact Becky at Steam Me Up, Kid to be part of the Becky Club section on Becky's blog's sidebar. Also, I'm going to say "Becky" as many times as possible. According to Becky, "We don't ever meet or pay dues, but once we have formed a giant army of Beckys, we'll do something awesome like storm a castle or avenge some injustice somewhere."

Join now!

beyond rude

rjcannon85@gmail.com (Losing It) — Tue, 10 Nov 2009 02:28:00 +0000

to everyone who is asking me WHEN rob and i will be reproducing: it is none of your fucking business. we've been married for less than a year. it's between the two of us and ONLY the two of us. if we decide to tell you, then fine. until then, back the fuck off.

the days stretch endlessly before me...

rjcannon85@gmail.com (Losing It) — Mon, 09 Nov 2009 21:20:00 +0000

for those of you who are writers/editors seeking employment in arizona, don't bother... there's not a damn thing out there. instead, just resign yourself to the fact that you'll be on your couch, eating cheetos and watching your stomach become even more pale and fleshy.

**WARNING: TANTRUM AHEAD**

it's gotten so bad that i actually applied to a job at the coffee bean and tea leaf. i'm sorry, but i feel like if i went to college, worked my ass off, spent all that time slogging through shitty retail jobs and graduated cum fucking laude, i shouldn't have to be applying for jobs in retail. i mean, we're told all throughout high school that we NEED to go to college so we can get a good job. we NEED to go to college so we don't have to work at wal-mart. we NEED to go to college to make money and have a great career. well, guess what? i went to college and i can't get dick.

yes, i know the economy is bad, shut the fuck up. i don't care. i know i'm not the only one in this position, i know i'm not the only one who's unemployed. and i'm sure they feel exactly they same way.

i have submitted hundreds of resumes and cover letters. i spend 3-5 hours a day, looking for work. i have made myself a plague to employers, calling and checking in as to the status of my application... i'm literally whoring myself out and i'm not seeing any results.

pass the cheetos.

New business venture

rjcannon85@gmail.com (Losing It) — Tue, 27 Oct 2009 05:29:00 +0000

Doing what every unemployed person does: venturing into the greeting card business. Behold, our holiday selection (more to come): http://www.zazzle.com/reddiwit

Dear GoDaddy.com,

rjcannon85@gmail.com (Losing It) — Mon, 26 Oct 2009 23:07:00 +0000

If you're reading this, I'm sorry. But you did ask if I could spin a tale and didn't have a problem with black humor, so you have no one but yourself to blame. Also, I say "fuck" about 90,000 times in this blog. Well, 90,001. Please to enjoy.

meow

rjcannon85@gmail.com (Losing It) — Fri, 23 Oct 2009 02:47:00 +0000

is it part of the genetic make-up of a siamese cat that not only are they loud, they're goddamn retarded, too?

i'm a spoiled whore

rjcannon85@gmail.com (Losing It) — Thu, 22 Oct 2009 03:43:00 +0000

today, at around 12:30, i decided i could no longer handle doing bullshit work that is reserved for high school interns and/or retards (yes, i AM too good for it, fuck you if you think i'm going to act like i love it), so i stood up, packed my bag and proceeded to go to target and tuesday morning, where i bought myself a slew of new shoes and le creuset bakeware (in citrus!), in that order.

fuck everyone who says retail therapy doesn't work.

also, that may have been the longest sentence i've ever written.

not getting my hopes up...

rjcannon85@gmail.com (Losing It) — Wed, 21 Oct 2009 02:45:00 +0000

but i had an AMAZING fucking interview today. i have another a second one on thursday, and if i charm the shit out of them, the job's mine. here's hoping!

zombie number 2

rjcannon85@gmail.com (Losing It) — Tue, 20 Oct 2009 15:22:00 +0000

if anyone wants to know whether or not zombies go to the bathroom, please allow me to direct you to the 2nd floor woman's bathroom, where it smells like a zombie took a giant, liquid shit all over the place. no lie, you can SEE the smell.

it's not like i poop rainbows, but seriously? do it at home, a truck stop bathroom, mcdonald's, ANYWHERE BUT HERE. you're making the baby jesus weep.

i didn't realize it was possible to run away and vomit at the same time, but every day's a learning experience.

fuck, i can't wait to be done at this place.

thighs... burning...

rjcannon85@gmail.com (Losing It) — Tue, 20 Oct 2009 15:05:00 +0000

(while doing the 30 day shred video featuring that cunt from "biggest loser" at the ungodly hour of 5am with rob, who i dragged out of bed)

rob: i fucking hate this! it's so hard!
me: that's what it's called "30 day shred," not "30 day fluffy bunnies." shut it.
rob: ...i changed my mind, i hate you.

needless to say, the next month is going to suck.

welcome to hell

rjcannon85@gmail.com (Losing It) — Sat, 17 Oct 2009 16:13:00 +0000

it's going to be 101 today. oh, and our AC unit broke last night. i'd write more, but i have to go unstick rob's balls from the chair.

Go fuck yourself, PetsFart

rjcannon85@gmail.com (Losing It) — Fri, 16 Oct 2009 15:48:00 +0000

My freelance employment at PetsFart is coming to an end the last week of October. As such, I found a job for a permanent copywriter position here and applied. Man, I was a shoe-in for this job. I have great credentials, experience, several recommendations, not to mention I'm motherfucking charming. I was riding high, sure I was going to land this fucker, and then I got cockblocked by HR.

See, when I first started, my mom mentioned her cousin works here, too. I have seen said cousin twice in the last 13 years (we're so not close), so I looked him up, said hi, and that was that. I had no idea what he did and didn't bother to ask. So, when I applied, they asked if I had any relatives who worked at PetsFart and I stupidly said yes, thinking I was fine, since the cousin and I are so distant. I should have fucking lied my ass off.

Apparently, PetsFart has a "Nepotism Policy," where if you're related to someone who is an officer of the company, you can't work there, even as a contractor. Turns out said cousin is a FUCKING VP (please note that I have nothing against him or his position. He didn't write the rules and this isn't his fault). So, not only could I not get the job as the copywriter, I COULDN'T EVEN FREELANCE THERE. Never mind that he in no way helped me land the freelance job, never mind that we never talk, never mind that we never will talk, I'm fucked.

What pisses me off is that not only am I screwed out of a perfectly good job, they had to decide whether or not they should even let me finish out my contract (they oh so graciously decided I could because I had no idea he worked there at the time I was hired). There is no way this guy would ever influence my job or ever pass down any confidential info (that would involve talking and contact and him being a sleazeball, none of which is likely to ever happen), but it doesn't matter. I can understand how this policy would apply to immediate relatives, but to A COUSIN I've rarely seen?!?! Oh, hells no.

So fuck you, PetsFart. That is seriously the most fucked up, retarded policy I have ever heard of IN MY LIFE. You're losing someone who would be a valuable asset to your company (I'm a damn good writer and I've fit quite nicely into your corporate environment in the last two months, thankyouverymuch) because I have some far-off cousin I NEVER SEE who has worked his way up the corporate ladder.

This is total bullshit. I'm shopping at Petco from now on. That is, when I'm not busy being unemployed and giving handjobs to the homeless, which is what I'm apparently going to have to do now.

Coat hanger or tampon?

rjcannon85@gmail.com (Losing It) — Fri, 16 Oct 2009 05:07:00 +0000

The best part about being married and unemployed with no real health insurance is getting to play the Oh, Fuck, Am I Pregnant?!?! game Every. Single. Month.

I won another round this month, THANK GOD. No sperm shall be able to impregnate my mighty, blackened, hate-filled uterus!

miracle diet

rjcannon85@gmail.com (Losing It) — Wed, 30 Sep 2009 15:51:00 +0000

no matter how fat you feel, your legs will always look long and amazing and thin with these ralph lauren boots, and they'll look SUPER THIN if you got them on sale.

try not to be jealous.

Taking the meaning of Christmas to a whole other level...

rjcannon85@gmail.com (Losing It) — Wed, 30 Sep 2009 02:00:00 +0000

We were in a rush today to get a large chunk of Christmas website copy for PetsFart completed. Said copy was filled with Christmas-related pet puns, such as "Bark the halls" and other such bullshit, and a good part was copy/pasted since we were in such a time crunch.

After I turned in said Christmas PetsFart copy, I realized I wrote "Satan Claws" instead of "Santa Claws" for almost all of it.

I haven't said anything yet.

...Part of me is really hoping they don't catch it and it goes live on their site as is.

WANT

rjcannon85@gmail.com (Losing It) — Tue, 29 Sep 2009 16:30:00 +0000

i need more job duties...

rjcannon85@gmail.com (Losing It) — Tue, 29 Sep 2009 02:36:00 +0000

how sad is it when the most rewarding/productive thing i did all day is pop a huge pimple that's been bugging me? immensely satisfying, but doesn't look so great on my resume.

Things I am Fucking Pumped For

rjcannon85@gmail.com (Losing It) — Mon, 28 Sep 2009 16:53:00 +0000

1. Zombieland comes out on Friday. I am so fucking there after work. Zombies AND Woody Harrelson AND shenanigans?!?! Yes, please.

2. Getting skinny. I joined the gym here where I'm temping (rhymes with "PetsFart Shmedquarters") AND I have a membership to 24 Hour Fitness, so I'm aiming for cardio 2x a day on most weekdays. I'm also trying to eat healthily and anorexic-ish, so hopefully that'll help my fat ass shrink. I have absolutely no excuse at this point. I want my husband to want to fuck me stupid in the years to come, and looking like a Biggest Loser reject is not going to help.

3. Moving. We are working very hard to pay off our debt (re: my credit card bills that I racked up for the wedding) so we can move to a place that is far less sunny and Arizona-like when our lease is up. Don't know if it will happen, but it's good to have goals, right?

4. Reading a shitload. I went crazycakes on Amazon.com Saturday night after a honkin' big mango margarita and ordered a ton of cheap-ass used books. Even with shipping, they're way, way less than what I'd pay if I got them from a regular bookstore. I also swooped in on a used bookstore up the street from me and ravished their lit section.

5. Cooler weather. IT'S ALMOST OCTOBER, PHOENIX. WHERE THE FUCK IS THE 70's AND 80's?!?! ENOUGH WITH THE 103 DEGREE BULLSHIT.

6. Book club. My friend Susie and I started a book club and invited some people she knows to join, and our first meeting is in October at my place. I get to talk about books AND socialize with someone other than Rob and the cats? Fucking sweet.

TMI Thursdays: The Day I Got Laid Off

rjcannon85@gmail.com (Losing It) — Thu, 24 Sep 2009 16:24:00 +0000

Welcome to my first-ever TMI Thursday post! I figured what better way to start this section off with the lovely tale of August 14, 2009: The Day I Got Laid Off. You can find all the hairy details about what happened here, but what I didn't talk about was the night of the day I got laid off.

I had spent the day alternating between bawling my eyes out and shitting my guts out, thanks to my awesome case of IBS that flares up under any type of stress (true story: I can simply LOOK at pictures of Rob's ex-wife and get the shits). Also, somewhere in the back of my mind, I figured that if I didn't eat anything, I'd at least be thin while unemployed (be honest, girls, who hasn't done that after a break-up or other life-shattering event?).

My former boss from my first job, the one I VOLUNTARILY LEFT, called me up and suggested a girl's happy hour to take my mind off my troubles. Fan-fucking-tastic! I'd go, nibble on some appetizers, have a glass or two of white wine, and come home sloppy drunk and far happier. So, I got all dolled up, marveling the whole time at how thin I looked (thanks, diarrhea!), pranced down the stairs in my 4-inch heels that I'd broken out of my closet for this very occasion (and if you know me, that's fucking rare), met Heather at the door and went on my merry way.

Fast-froward to 3 hours later, 4 appetizers later (2 of them being RAW AHI TUNA TACOS) and 2 small glasses of wine, a mixed drink and a vodka shot later, and I was in the restaurant bathroom, drunkenly shitting out every inch of intestines I had left. Every. Single. Inch. After I finished, I sat there on the toilet, weaving back and forth and trying to convince myself that I COULD focus, that I wasn't THAT drunk.

And then... it hit me. A wave of nausea so strong and so powerful that it took everything I had to pull up my underwear as I slumped to the floor and projectile vomited those nummy RAW AHI TUNA TACOS and everything else I had consumed into (almost) the toilet.

Now, I'm a healthy-sized girl and can carry my liquor like no one's business; in the real world, I wouldn't have even been phased by what I'd drunk. But after a day of total dehydration, no food and tons of stress, those drinks went all Ike Turner on my ass and beat the everliving shit out of me.

Fast-forward to an hour later, where I'm STILL throwing up with my pants around my ankles and passing out in-between barfing sessions. My boss is tipsily banging on the stall door, demanding that I unlock it (I can barely hold on to my consciousness, let alone open my eyes and move to unlock a goddamn stall door). Things went black for a while, and the next thing I know, they've managed to unlock the stall door and someone is giving me sips of ice water from a glass. Which I then threw up.

The best part of the evening wasn't when Heather's friend/my former coworker, Judie, dropped the glass with ice water behind me and it shattered, and I accidentally rolled on it as I barfed and got glass embedded in my ass.

It wasn't when Heather and Judie tried repeatedly to pick up 185 lbs. of my dead-weight ass and pull up my icy, soaked and glass-laden pants.

It wasn't when other women in the bathroom saw me and went, "EWWWW!" and Heather told them I got laid of and they became immediately sympathetic, cooing "Oh, my God, that's HORRIBLE! I'm so sorry! I'd be trashed, too! I hope she feels better!"

No, the best part of the night was when the manager had to come in, help them lift me up/pull up my pants and put me on a chair, and then slide me (I was passed out cold) AND the chair out of the bathroom, through the restaurant, out the door and to the front of the restaurant, where Rob was waiting for me (thank God, someone had the insight to call him). He tenderly helped pick me up and placed me gently in the front seat, where I immediately woke up, dribble-barfed down the side of my seat and out the door, and passed out again. WINNER.

Needless to say, I woke up the next morning, covered in RAW AHI TUNA TACO vomit with shards of glass drilled into my ass cheeks and all up and down my thighs. More surprisingly, however, was that Rob didn't immediately demand a divorce.

So, there you have it. My first TMI Thursday post.

how i feel about my temp job

rjcannon85@gmail.com (Losing It) — Sat, 19 Sep 2009 05:58:00 +0000

(as overheard in a conversation with my friend)

"It just sucks to think that I have this [writing] talent that I've worked VERY HARD to hone over the years, and now I'm writing about fucking cat toys and dog beds...

It's like if you were the best blow job giver EVER and you had to spend your time only blowing bananas."

people who i don't care are dead

rjcannon85@gmail.com (Losing It) — Tue, 15 Sep 2009 02:26:00 +0000

1. patrick swayze
2. michael jackson
3. any other celebrity who decides to croak in 2009

With apologies to Jen Lancaster

rjcannon85@gmail.com (Losing It) — Wed, 02 Sep 2009 20:01:00 +0000

Being unemployed is nothing new. Neither is being fat. Or bitchy. So why are so many people telling me I should write a book about this?

Well, not just this experience.... a book, period. And don't think I'm not tempted by the idea. It's just that, once I try to think about what, exactly, the damn thing would be about, I can't think of anything to set me apart from any of the other, fat, mean, unemployed funny ladies out there. Except maybe my overuse of the word "fuck."

My family would be excellent book fodder, in my opinion. The only problem is, most of them are still alive,and what good is dishing the dirt when there's the potential to get called on it?

Fiction is out, because there's no way I'm going to be the next Devil Wear's Prada, and when you really get down to it, there's not a whole lot of originality in fiction this days, in my very snobby and literate opinion (I do have a degree in English, after all. Nyah).

Maybe I could talk about what it's like to be married to someone almost 20 years my senior. What would be a good title for that? How about He Cums Dust?

At any rate, it's a little idea that keeps bouncing around in my head and there was no way it was going to leave me alone until I put it the fuck out there. GOD. ARE YOU HAPPY NOW, BRAIN?!?!

ugh

rjcannon85@gmail.com (Losing It) — Tue, 01 Sep 2009 18:28:00 +0000

almost 3 weeks of watching cooking shows on food network has made me more than slightly suicidal.

the one where i try not to be bitter, but really am

rjcannon85@gmail.com (Losing It) — Wed, 26 Aug 2009 04:59:00 +0000

unless you've been under a rock or have no immediate contact with me, you know that i've been laid off from my job at the company that starts with "zoo" and ends with "loo," and i'll be damned if i put them together so this blog can come up on their google alerts.

to make a long story short, the way i found out i was going to get laid off was when i tried to log on to my work e-mail before i left in the morning, and found that my account had been disabled. i called the VP and demanded an explanation and was told that i "better come in the office and talk to the CEO." oh, and that it "wasn't personal, just financial."

fucking AWESOME.

so, i cry my eyes out to rob, take a shower while sobbing, put on some nice clothes (because there's no way i'm going to get fired looking like a schlub) and bravely drive to work. thankfully, i was the only one besides the CEO there and it was short and sweet. he was very nice about it and i got a 2 week severance, so it wasn't horrible, but it still fucking sucked.

i would like nothing more than to bash the shit out of the company, the product and the people, give them all the giant finger and burn every bridge i can, but the truth of the matter is that i liked the company, i liked what i was doing and i liked the people. yes, i was bored a lot, but that's because there wasn't enough work to keep me busy. i work hard and i work quickly, and a lot of times companies just can't keep up. oh, and the fact that i was a financial burden and my salary could be better put to use by gaining sign-ups might have had something to do with my dismissal. BUT IT WAS PURELY FINANCIAL.

for the past week and a half, i've been eating my feelings, having a bad attitude and applying for every goddamn writing and editing position i can find. and it sucks donkey balls. i've built a professional resume AND website with the help of my very gracious cousin. i've written a professional cover letter with just a hint of my quirky personality (i may or may not have used the phrase "grammar nazi") and no nibbles. i'm going crazy being at home all day. i call rob AT LEAST 8 times a day just to talk to someone. i even talk to the fucking cats. let me repeat that: I TALK TO THE CATS. for someone who claims to hate people, i'm a hell of a lot more social than i give myself credit for, and the lack of human interaction is already taking its toll.

i've cycled through the stages of grief about 27 times now and am currently set to "anger." i'm angry that my work wasnt valued enough, i'm angry that they asked if i would still freelance, i'm angry that i have to go try and find a job in this piece of shit economy, i'm angry that my husband has to foot all the bills, i'm angry that i cannot contribute monetarily to this marriage (but at least i still give great head), i'm angry that i have to try and sell myself, i'm angry that i cannot find a job prospect that looks even the least bit interesting to me, i'm angry that i don't have enough hobbies to keep me occupied, i'm angry that my lack of hobbies means i'm going to have to clean the house to keep busy, i'm angry that no one is going to pay me to be mean and bitchy and snarky and funny and a smartass and a good writer all in one, and i'm angry that i have no idea what direction i want my life to go in.

pass the razor

rjcannon85@gmail.com (Losing It) — Tue, 25 Aug 2009 01:27:00 +0000