A full entry? What the fuck!

I at least owe myself a full explanation and a breakdown of recent events.

So that Dogfucking, shit-eating, fatass piece of going bald grey teeth mother FUCKING Sean is getting fired! I know! I'm excited too! Piece of shit, the whole "Let's harass the shipper WHENEVER I'm doing sweet fuck all and trying not to look like a total moron, which as a side note, IS ALL THE FUCKING TIME, game." got old. Reaalll quiick.

So how did I do it? Yes ladies and gentlemen, I will proclaim to have gotten this fucker fired; because let's be honest: I did!

It all started when he fucking shows up late EVERY weekend leaving me to open everything and be harassed by all the old pricks that come into the store. Whether it be sleeping in, or claiming his new meds are fucking him up, (Which, by the how, WHAT THE FUCK? How goddamn crazy are you?!) he always had a really, really sorry excuse. It pissed me off because he was always trying to swindle me into keeping his faggoty secret that he couldn't make it to work on time, even though he lives the closest out of any employee. It's within walking distance for fucks sakes.

Next it would be that game. A constant barrage of "What're you doing?" But not like a question, more like a demand. He's new, so am I, so at first I thought he might be trying to learn. Fair enough right?

No! That fucker is questioning me, making sure I'm working while he goes off and fucks the living shit out of the dog. Sitting, smoking whenever he can, looking around and smacking his cocksuckers lips as if he's got a fat pair of nuts to gargle between them. This fucker is making sure I'm working? Go die! I would Love to see his daily routine played through in fast motion, it would be a montage of sitting behind the counter and sneaking out behind the trailers for a fag.

This constant questioning prompted none too kind responses from me, and from there, a Lovely hatred was born. I tried to help, I tried to give him stuff to do, (Because believe me, at a clusterfuck Marine Store switching computer systems, there is a buttload to do.) or even just to leave me alone. But nooo, after sitting around to his hearts content, he would come and pester me asking me why I was organizing my shipping desk. Why I felt the need to put away the rope. Why I was selling something to a customer. Asking me a question, and then right in front of an old prick, laughing at my answer and saying I'm wrong.

Do you know how hard it is to earn the older generations respect when you're nineteen? Especially when half of them don't speak English and have already rammed their twelve foot rotten wooden boat into the rocks and need a new piece of everything yesterday? Hard enough, I don't need that fucker undermining me at every turn, it's a struggle I'm losing thanks to my ever shortening temper.

Anyhow. You get the point. He's a fucking loser.

I started by saying this faggot was always late, which was no lie in my defence. He even missed a full day of work and called in the next morning saying he was going to be late, and because we're so short staffed and cheap, we let him get away with! I then said I thought he was kind of a loonie, which he played right into my hand by calling and saying he's started to take medication for anxiety after his mothers death. It might explain why he's been such a prick, but I almost have to surmise he's always been a fucker.

I then proceeded to spread a few rumors in the underbelly of the staff which would eventually work it's way up to the man about his inadequacies, medications, and squeal on every little thing he did wrong. Wrong? Probably. Did he deserve it? Probably. Does anyone there like him anyways? No!

Just fanning the flames, speeding things up a little, you know? I don't even need to justify myself, I feel fine about it. I'll be sleeping fine when I still have a job in an economy where twenty percent of all British Colombians are unemployed. Boo fucking hoo.

Kev' told me he's gone Tuesday, and I have to work with him Sunday and Monday. It's going to be so hard to keep quiet, but oh man, so satisfying to watch him leave the door.

Fuck that felt gooodd. I'm still SO sore from boxing, what a fucking workout man! Today looks like a chill day, I was supposed to go camping and get trashed, but the weather looks hairier then my ass. Unlikely, but fear not! There's always another party afoot! I guess.

Drinking is one of the few things I look forward to in the week. (Here's a short list; Working out, boxing now, time alone with my book, time with Corey, drinking. Whee.) I've almost had to make it something to look forward to, it seems that if I don't I almost spiral a little bit. Alcoholism? Shit.

Bah, I don't even care. It keeps me sane and maybe one of my only dependants. Not even, I could go without, but at this point, I don't even care. I'm all for keeping myself healthy, but I enjoy my booze a little too much.

I'm just digging a big hole for myself here, so I'll stop. At least I'm aware of it. At least.

Breakfast time! At noon! I Love my weekends!