Thursday, March 31, 2011

Fun at the Store.

Hey guys, I'm just got out of work. It's been a couple of days since I posted something, so I thought I might as well relate a rather charming little incident that happened today involving me, Alex, a grumpy old woman, and a can of ravioli.

Alex and I were out shopping for groceries last night (Yes, we shop together. Yes we're straight) We were walking down the aisles, throwing stuff in the cart. Well, I was throwing stuff in the cart, Alex was throwing them in, and then putting them back on the shelves... three aisles from where they started. We had been doing this for nearly 30 minutes, when finally some random old woman, who I swear was following us, had enough. Keep in mind, this wasn't your sweet, grandmotherly type old lady; This woman looked like one of those mummies they pull of off mountains in the Tibet, or get found in swamps. She gets up in Alex's face (or as close as possible since Alex is easily 6'2", and this woman might top out at 4'8" with a good pairs of heels) and starts rasping at him in this emphysemic voice that if she sees him put one more thing from our cart back, she'll call the manager. So Alex, being the upstanding gentleman he is, walks past the old broad, reaches into her cart, pulls out a can Chef Boyardee Ravioli, puts it on the shelf (Next to some loaves of bread) blows her a kiss, and walks off, leaving her looking appalled, and me scrambling for the check-out counter, trying not to pee myself  from laughing. This, ladies and mentlegen, is my life.

Aside from the usual hijinx of my life, it's been a rather calm couple of days. No more strange voice messages, though none of my friends seemed to have any idea what it was that I was talking about when I asked about it. I'm just gonna write it off as a couple of twelve year olds trying to be cool. Sheila's funeral is Sunday. I'm pretty freaked out, to be honest. Her dad was out of the picture long before I showed up, but her mom has always had it in for me, sentiments I'm sure haven't been helped by the fact that I apparently drove her to suicide.... sigh.

Monday, March 28, 2011

More Explainations.

Looking back over my post from last night, I kinda wanna apologize for coming across as the cynical jerk I sound like. Granted, I am a cynical jerk, but it doesn't mean I should act like it. It's just been a long couple of days... weeks... months, you get the picture.

I guess before I go any further, I should explain just who the hell I am. My names Jason Sanders. I'm 20 years old, living in a cheap ass apartment in the bad part of Seattle with my roommate and long time friend Allister (Alex) Lawson. No wife, girlfriends, love buddies or significant other to speak of. As I mentioned above, I'm a cynical person by nature, not always the nicest person to be around, but I consider myself a loyal devoted friend. I work at a Starbucks about 20 miles from my apartment, serving lattes to old ladies and hipsters (quite the life, I know) Up until Sheila killed herself last week, it was my life, and I was happy with it. Now, it just won't do it for me anymore. I guess the point of this blog is me trying to right some of the wrongs I've committed in my life, and try to prevent anything like what happened with Sheila from happening again.

So, now that we're so nice and acquainted (all three of you reading this) I guess I should move on and talk about my day, since I guess that's what most people with Blogs do. For the most part my day was average. Got up and went to work at about 5 this morning, spent 8 hours "Barista-ing"(?) Made it through the day without incurring the wrath of my manager, who's had a hard-on for me since he found those porno magazines under the wipers of his car. (Alex's doing) Went home to find Alex lying on the table in his boxers, trying to snort ground habenero peppers (He's a weird one, my friend) checked the voicemail on my house phone, made some ramen for dinner and went to bed. I know, my life is so exciting, I can barely wait to get up in the morning.

One weird thing though. On my answering machine, there was this odd message. Just about 2 minutes of a guy breathing, then the word "listen" I've been racking my brain trying to figure out which one of my friends could've left it. I've already asked Alex about it, he never even remembered hearing the phone ring for that message. I'll have to talk to my pal Jake about it at work tomorrow. Creepy prank calls are right up his alley.
Well, I'm tired, so I'm gonna go to bed. Sheila's funeral is this weekend, so I've got that to look forward to. Class tomorrow at the U should be fun... not. Anyway, night all.

Sunday, March 27, 2011

Well... this is helpful.

Yay, new blog, millions of people watching and commenting on my deepest inner thoughts and fears... whoo hoo.

I guess I should start out by telling all three of you reading this why I created this blog. It all really started about a week ago, when I got a call from my ex girlfriend Sheila. Keep in mind, dear reader (What the hell? Since when do I use the word dear as an adjective?) that Sheila and I had been broken up since December, and hadn't spoken since late January. Any way, she calls me up out of the blue, to tell me, in no uncertain terms, exactly why it is she had broken up with me. I must have sat there for a good 30 minutes, getting bitched out by the woman I once thought I'd loved, hearing her rant about how I was "insensitive to her needs" and "never able to take things seriously," you, know, standard Raging-Hormone-Bitchfest type aggression, nothing I hadn't heard before. What really freaked me out, though, was the end of our pleasurable little conversation, when, out of nowhere, she shifts gears and begins sobbing, begging me for forgiveness, pleading with me to take her and help her, along with a slew of other assorted hyserical ramblings.

During all of this, I'm sitting in the living room of my apartment staring at the phone, (which I had placed on the coffee table so as to listen to her rant on the glorious speakerphone of my cheap ass Sprint phone) slack jawed. I had no idea how our conversation had come to this bizarre junction, where the girl who had left me less than two months ago, the strongest person I'd ever known, was sobbing like a two year old. Finally, when I thought she had calmed down enough so that I could find out just what had brought on this spurt of lunacy, she said something to me that, even over the crappy ass speaker, sent a shiver down my spine.

"I just... I just wish you had paid more attention Jason... then maybe you could have saved me"

Whilst I was still reeling from that jarring bit of dialouge, Sheila hung up.

Three days later, her roommate calls the phone in my apartment. Sheila was dead. They'd found her lying in her bathtub, wrists slashed.

I honestly don't know what to do anymore. I keep playing that last conversation in my head again and again. I just can't figure it out.... Alex, my roommate and Partner in Idiocy, recommended that I start this blog, to air my feelings and build a network of support. Personally, I think it's a shitty ass idea, but it's honestly the best one I've had offered (and trust me, there were some freaky ideas thrown at me.) So here I am. Hopefully I'll only need to use this for few weeks, and then I can get on with my life. I just need to get over this.