Wednesday, December 4, 2013

Attack of the Blarg!

I believe that I have invented or at least identified a state of mind with which I am all too familiar. I call it the 'Blarg.' Feeling 'blargy' is essentially a limbo of sorts. You don't want anything and yet you want everything at the same time. You just want to wear sweat pants and curl under a blanket, but it's really too hot, so you roll up one pant leg and stick your leg out of the blanket. You're hungry but you don't know what to eat and nothing sounds good. You're bored but everything sounds awful and leaving the house is unacceptable. You basically just want to sit around and watch Netflix only you spend hours flipping through the options because you can't decide on a single damn thing. You don't want to be alone and yet anyone unlucky enough to be around you is odious and therefore prey to your inner Blarg Monster. This goes double for your significant other, the poor bastard.

Google's depiction of the Blarg Monster

Forget about being productive. You'll just feel bitter and resentful at the stupidest things like the fact that you actually have to work for a living. Or the fact that in order to get the job that you really want, you have to devote your free time to honing your craft. You'll look at your bank account and stress that you just might not make ends meet this month and then go spend money you don't have online shopping for things that you don't really need. Like pretty teal cereal bowls that turn out to be not microwave safe (who the fuck makes things these days that aren't microwave safe? HEATHENS that's who). You'll try to cheer yourself up with things that normally make you happy like ice cream or music and yet the flavor seems off or your favorite song is suddenly annoying as hell.

A more advanced subspecies of Blarg.
(I didn't draw this, but it looks fairly accurate)

You're not really sad. You're not really mad. You don't really hate the people or things that are currently pissing you off. You're just knee deep in blarg. It's an existential angst caused by wanting everything and nothing at the same time. Somewhere between depression and PMS, (though PMS is often the culprit). It's just frustrating. And a problem thoroughly embedded in the First World. So I should really stop whining and just go to Trader Joe's already…


PS, I just looked up 'blargmonster' in Urban Dictionary and it does exist. Here is the definition: 'a person that rambles on while writing in a blog.' Heh.

Monday, December 2, 2013

Lifetime Movie of the Week

I woke up yesterday morning to a lewd text from a guy I haven't seen in over a year. I sort of laughed it off and responded glibly along the lines of, "I'm doing well, how've you been?" Every now and then I'll hear from a proverbial "somebody that I used to know." It's nice to catch up, but clearly there's a reason we aren't together anymore. And with this particular guy, we were never really together. I mentioned him previously in a blog, but didn't go into detail because there was really nothing to tell. I always got kind of a weird vibe from him, so I lost touch on purpose. But we texted back and forth for a while anyway, chit chatting. I asked him if he was still with the girl he started dating after me, but he didn't really give me a straight answer. I told him about my boyfriend and how we've been dating almost a year now. Then he asked if I had any cute girlfriends I could hook him up with. The answer to which was a world of NO.

This photo came with the caption
"Every Lifetime villain ever."
He asked me to meet up for a cocktail as old friends. I didn't think it was a good idea, even though I'm still friends with some of my other exes. Besides there was no way in hell I was planning on leaving the house when I had so much Netflix binging in my PJs and procrastinating my internship assignment to do. Somewhere in that conversation, the tone shifted. He became predatory and creepy. He gave me an ultimatum to meet him by midnight or else he would tell my boyfriend I had been cheating on him. Which obviously I wasn't. I hadn't even talked to him since maybe February when I first told him I had a boyfriend and he left me alone.

I knew he didn't have any proof, since it didn't happen. I also knew he didn't know my boyfriend's name, phone number, or any other identifying information. Regardless, the fact that he was attempting to blackmail and manipulate me for no reason was scary as hell. He had dropped me off at my apartment in Pasadena last November after our final date. He remembered my address and that I worked for the company. He kept counting down to midnight. "1 hour & 53 minutes." "1 hour 11 minutes." "47 minutes." Then he texted me a phone number. "Still your office line?" He must have googled the property and found what was actually the Central Leasing Office number in Virginia. I told him I didn't work there anymore and even if he called that number they didn't have my forwarding address and wouldn't give it to him if they did.

One terrifying sonofabitch.
He didn't believe me when I told him I moved. He called me a liar as well as a cheater. At "25 minutes," he said he was getting in the car to come to Pasadena. I told him in no uncertain terms that this was harassment and that I would call the cops. He sneered and said that the cops wouldn't do anything. A fine at the most. Which really creeped me out. He knew the exact amount of fine. Like he'd done this before.

Even though I was telling him the truth that I had moved six weeks ago, and there was very little chance of him actually finding me, and he couldn't really do anything to me if he did, I was so unnerved that I was shaking. Someone wanted to hurt me, if not physically than emotionally. And if someone is determined enough, they can find you. Even with all the privacy settings in the world. I couldn't understand why either. I barely knew this person. Why did he want to "teach me a lesson?" All I could figure was that maybe the girl he was dating cheated on him and he was misplacing his anger onto me.

I actually still had her number from a time we all went clubbing together back when we were friends. So I texted her to see if there was anything wrong and to tell her he was really freaking me out. She never responded. So I'm thinking she's either lying dead in a ditch somewhere (I'm nothing if not melodramatic), or at the very least she changed her number to get away from this psycho.

Oh Lifetime. You get me.
I did end up calling the Norwalk Sheriff just to see what the protocol in this case would be. I felt like some white trash hick calling with baby daddy drama. I was trying to explain to the woman on the phone that it seems ridiculous to have to call about this kind of thing, but there were serious warning bells going off in my head. She didn't really take me seriously and just told me to change my phone number or at least block his and to call back if he made an actual physical threat against me. Since I couldn't honestly say I felt like my life was in danger, I had to hang up. Seems kind of strange that you can't call the police until something bad happens even though it's a possibility. Then again, I'm sure they would get overloaded with calls about all the freaks out there who aren't actually planning on any harm, and not be able to help people in mortal danger. Sigh.

So I just blocked his number. We weren't friends on any social media, and I don't even know if he knows my last name because I can't even remember his. Still, I'm a little freaked out. Even after my boyfriend reminded me that he has a baseball bat in his trunk and asked where that guy lives. (Not that he would seriously go beat the shit out of him, but it was a nice offer nonetheless). I also sent an e-mail to the office I used to work at and the one I used to live at just letting them know not to give out any information if anyone should ask. So embarrassing.

The whole thing seems so ridiculous, like a bad joke gone horribly wrong. I tried to reason with him and called him out for making less sense than a Lifetime movie villain. He just said, "Oh stop, u love me." WTF. So he's trying to extort me into cheating otherwise he'll expose me as a cheater? What kind of sense does that make? Oh, and by the way I DIDN'T FUCKING CHEAT, YA LOONEY!

I just want this whole incident on record in case I mysteriously don't show up for work one day… Also, just to remind everyone to make sure and keep your information as private as possible online and with people you don't know.