6/18/2006

What is this feeling?

Loathing . . . unadulterated loathing . . .


I hate my coworkers . . . ok, so it isn't exactly hate. I can truly say that I only hate two people in this world (my adopted sisters . . . aka the queen bitches of hell). What I feel for the majority of my coworkers though, it has been coming close to hate lately. I can't even bring myself to have a conversation with most of them the past week or so. They are literally the most immature people I have ever met.

Picture the horniest thirteen year old boy you have ever met, then make him 20 or 22 but keep the hormones raging and the stupid peurile jokes. That might come close to being the three guys I work with who are around my age. I went to school with these guys, and they haven't changed a bit since then. Every single night is nothing but an endless line of "George check out that chick", "Did you see the rack on her?", and "Holy Hell! I want to be outside right now instead of working" comments. I mean sure, there are quite a few attractive women who come out to watch movies at the drive-in, but I don't need to hear comments about each one of them or get a play-by-play of what is going on in the pants of my coworkers when they see these women.

I have tried ignoring the comments. I have tried going along with them and making the stupid jokes and remarks. Hell, I have even tried telling them to their faces that they are acting like thirteen year olds who are just noticing that women have boobs, but nothing works. They keep doing it, and sadly those comments are just the tip of the iceberg.

On weekends, there are two young girls who work out at the drive-in with us. I say young girls because one is 16 and the other just turned 17. One of the guys' favorite pasttimes is making jokes about the two girls being jailbait . . . oh and did I mention that one of the guys was recently dating the older of the girls. I mean for pity's sake, there are a few things that you don't joke around about, and in my book, sex with underage girls is one of those things. When you add in that the girls really like to flirt with all of the younger workers you just have a recipe for trouble.

So I spend most of my time talking with either my boss (and father of two of the other workers out there), or some of the older women who work out there. It is sad when you find that you have more in common with people twice your age than with people within a five year span of you.

It is now just a counting game for me. I am already counting down the days until I head back to campus. I miss being able to have a conversation, whether serious or not, without having to resort to "Damn she is hot" or a fart joke to connect with the person. I miss sitting down to have a bite to eat with someone and ending up spending an extra half hour at the table because we are just chatting. I miss going for a walk and ending up running into half a dozen people I can just hang out with for a while to keep my mind off things. I go for a walk here at home and end up doing nothing but wandering around and singing to myself.

At some points I have just gotten so bored and/or lonely that I will just pull my phone out and call the first person that comes to mind. I have spent more time on my cell phone in the past week than in the two months before that.

And as I finish this, my MP3 player decides to chime in with "Home" by Michael Bublé.

And I’m surrounded by
A million people I
Still feel alone
Oh, let go home
Oh, I miss you, you know

Let me go home
I’ve had my run
Baby, I’m done
I gotta go home


I'm right there with you bud.

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