"Honey, I'm home!"

Okay, so I know I haven't posted anything in a year and a half. Holy shit, right?

A lot changes in that chunk of time.

I'm commandeering my brief, silly little blog for a higher purpose. Here's the deal, kiddies.

No one reads this, but it is still available to read, not just by people I know but by the entire internet-possessing world. The ability to create something and set it sail into the void like a toy boat into the sea has always been a source of wonder to me. I revel in chance and the unique experiences that it has brought me.

Now it may be my salvation. I have been sick for a long time. It is a mental weakness that I have been aware of all my life and with which I have endured an increasingly bitter struggle with since early childhood. I have been in and out of therapy since I was 13 for the various manifestations of this illness such as anxiety and learning disorders, cutting, depression and contemplated suicide.

A little over two years ago, I moved out of my parent's house confident that independence alone would give me enough space to grow and new opportunities to cure all of my problems. I was young, and wrong. Removed from all of my former meager supports, I now find myself all but consumed by my uncontrollable highs and lows. The friends I once had to talk to are now distant and unconcerned. The new friends I thought I'd make share very little in common with me, and to be honest, I feel that there isn't enough of me left in this body to make any labored attempts at forging new friendships worthwhile.

Look, you're getting bored already. So am I. I hate that the only substance left inside of me is my own decay.

Which is where Lube Penguin comes in. Silly name, but I'm not changing it. I think that if I talk about this enough-- if I bleed it out of me bit by bit-- I may start to get better. There are already small things that I have found which temporarily alleviate the symptoms of my illness.

I am not sure if this will be enough. If I wasn't so poor, I would have myself admitted to the full time care of professionals. The treatment that therapy offers is, if effective, emotionally taxing and physically exhausting. I have to balance my illness, the fight against it, and a full time job on my already fragile mental plate, and quite frankly, it is unbearable.

But I'm not giving up.

While I have always been sick, this turn for the worse has been extremely recent. Sometime in the last year the light has gone out from me. Sickness and all, I used to be a vibrant and functional person. That light was with me the last time I posted on this blog. I won't give up until I find it again.

I just want to be better. I want to experience the fullness and intricate beauties of life with a peaceful soul and open, uncluttered mind. I want to be someone who has ideas and dreams, ambitions and impulses. I used to be an incredibly imaginative girl, a good friend, an attentive lover, an artist, a writer. Now I am just sick.

The fact that no one reads this gives me the freedom to say whatever comes to mind, but the possibility that someone could is what instills a tiny seed of hope in my soul.

Christ is risen... and he wants braaaaaaaains!

Happy Zombie Jesus Day! :)

Fuck your buzzwords, they just make the hate easier to chew.

Bigotry is a "lifestyle choice", too. :)

"Shop Smart. S-Mart."

You're back! ^^

As all my friends know, art is my love, but fast food is my true calling. "Would you like fries with that?" is a question I recite in my sleep. Pre-programmed into my brain, it rolls off the tongue even when the asking is unnecessary, before it can be stopped.

Customer: "I'd like a large fry."
Me: "Would you like fries with that?"

Everyone should work a customer service job at some point in their lives. It forces one to foster better people skills, implements discipline, teaches teamwork and calls on reserves of patience so vast that one is shocked at how far their limit can be stretched without snapping. Before Buddha started on his better-known career path, he shoveled french fries. I'm sure of it.



"The tongue like a sharp knife... kills without drawing blood. Now, tell me again why you can't take the tomato off yourself?"








There are habitual offenders, the kind you can sort into categories that other customer service representatives will recognize, such as:

The Mute: The customer remains largely unresponsive to all attempts at communication.

ex. Customer walks up to counter, staring at the menu board above the Wendy cashier person's head.
W.C.P.: "Hello, sir."
Customer: "..."
W.C.P.: "How are you today?"
Customer: "..."
W.C.P.: "Is it going to be for here or to go?"
Customer: "..."
W.C.P: "Do you need any help finding anything?"
Customer: "..."
W.C.P: "Sir...?"
Customer: "I'll take a number one combo."
W.C.P.: "With a Pepsi?"
Customer stares at soda dispenser. "..."
W.C.P: "Diet Pepsi?"
Customer: "..."
W.C.P: "Dr. Pepper?
Customer: "..."
W.C.P: "Mountain Dew?"
Customer: "..."
W.C.P: "Monkey's ass?"
Customer: "..."
W.C.P: "Toilet water?"
Customer: "This is to go."

The Mathematically Challenged: The customer can't understand how the items they asked for really cost the amount portrayed in large, clearly printed numbers on the menu board.

ex. Customer: "I'd like a cheeseburger deluxe."
W.C.P: "The junior cheeseburger deluxe?"
Customer: "What?"
W.C.P: "Or a quarter pound single with cheese?"
Customer: "Yeah, give me a single cheeseburger deluxe." *angry tone*
W.C.P: "Okay, that'll be $3.39."
Asshole: "Huh? Three dollars for a burger?"
W.C.P: "Yes. As you can see on our large, clearly printed menu board." *points*
Asshole: "Don't you have any junior burgers?"
W.C.P: *smacks forehead*

The Center of the Universe: Self explanatory.

ex. Hostile woman comes to the front counter after going through the drive through.
Hellbitch: "I just came through drive through, and they forgot to give me an extra spoon!"
W.C.P: "Sorry about that. Spoons are on the condiment stand right behind you."
Hellbitch: "Get me a spoon!"
W.C.P: "...They're two feet behind you."
Hellbitch: "I want to talk to your manager!"
Manny: "Ma'am?"
Hellbitch: "RAAAAAAAAAA!"
Awesome other customer: "Here's a spoon. There's a whole pile behind you, hon."
Employees: *snigger*

The Disgruntled Regular: The customer (almost always a crotchety old man) can't understand why, out of the hundreds of customers that come through the store each day, you don't have his particular order memorized and ready by the time he gets up to the counter.

ex. Customer comes to front counter and orders "the usual".
W.C.P: "Okay, remind me what that is again?"
Old Bat: *belabored sigh* *mumbles about terrible service*
W.C.P: "Please go die soon."


Just to name a few of my favorites. There's joys to the food industry, as well-- but we'll have to explore those another time.

Time to watch Rent with my girl! ^^

Fin!

"Hi! Hi. Hi, hi... hi."

Hello!

Welcome to my shiny new blog.
This is me:

^[that gesture means 'lesbian' in sign language]

A starving artist from New Joisey. (we don't actually talk like that.)

And this is Lube Penguin. Like me, lube penguin enjoys








hanging with friends,













boozin',






















and pussy.








I'm not sure what kind of a blog this will turn into, but I hope you stick around to find out. :]

Fin!