And you thought you had bad luck...

My life is a series of unfortunate events. If it wasn’t for bad luck then I’d have no luck at all. If someone wrote a book about my daily life…it would be a tragic comedy. Or a comic tragedy. Or just a bunch of crap that no one would read. That is why I am the one writing a “book” about my life. I like to put a positive spin on things…because really…if you were to just lay down a list of all the shit that happens to me…you might wonder why it is I still hold on to my sanity.

After I had that thought I decided…yeah…I kind of want to put this all down in a list. And even though it may seem completely ridiculous and far-fetched that all this shit has happened to only one person…it’s true. All of these stories are true. I am not just making a bunch of stuff up to make this interesting. I’d actually prefer none of this happened to me…but as it is…hopefully it will be some what entertaining to read about since it's all happening to someone else…

I’m going to go easy on myself and start with some recent events. Just tonight, in fact, I decided I desperately needed to do laundry. I knew this because I was down to nothing but fancy underwear. When you’re out of comfy undies…it’s time to do laundry. There is absolutely NO reason for me to wear anything with lace or without full ass coverage to work. In fact my workplace is about as UNSEXY as you can possibly get. I barely wear make up. You get it…I needed to do laundry.

So after separating my whites from my colors I got all my quarters together, grabbed my detergent, hiked my basket up on to my hip—which I hate, by the way, because it hurts when it digs in—and headed down stairs to my laundry room. Someone was drying their clothes. Suspect Zero. I loaded my laundry in to the washer and headed back upstairs for some Facebooking.

I timed it out perfectly. When I got back downstairs, both washers were on one minute left. I absolutely hate having to wait…but I don’t trust my clothes sitting in the washer because in college people used to take your clothes out and pile them on top of the washer so they could use it. Then everyone who went in to do laundry could see all your business all wet and piled on top of the washers.

I didn’t notice anything at this point.

I cleaned out the lint traps and got my dryer sheets all up in my two favorite dryers that I’m convinced do a better job than their twin counterparts next to them. And then I went back to the washers. I usually throw all my wet clothes in the basket and transfer them to the dryers for fear of dropping freshly laundered clothes on to the scummy laundry room floor if I carry them.

“No Fucking Way!” I yelled, the minute I realized my basket wasn’t on the washer where I left it. I looked around in case someone just moved it…but the room isn’t all that big. It was for sure gone. The tall stand up basket that has been down there since the last time I did laundry was, however, still standing there. Whoever had clothes in the dryer, aka Suspect Zero, HAD to have taken my basket when they grabbed their clothes.

Who the fuck steals a laundry basket?? I mean, it’s not like they are expensive or anything. I’m sure the dollar store sells them for a fucking dollar! Livid. I’m totally pissed at the fact that I have always always always left my basket down on top of the washer when I’ve done laundry…no matter where I’ve lived…and never once has someone taken it. Because it’s fucking stupid to steal a laundry basket and everyone knows it! Everyone except Suspect Zero. Fucking loser piece of shit white trash asshole.

Yeah…I can go out and buy another basket. And yeah…I do have a second basket in my closet I can dump out to carry my clothes up stairs with. It’s the fucking principle! I mean…it’s just such an asinine thing to steal. If you don’t have your own basket, how did you get two loads of laundry down stairs in the first place? And why was my basket the more viable option to steal over the other stand up basket that’s just sitting there. Obviously my basket is IN USE! This other one seems to be lost…but no…it’s my fucking basket this asshole wants and decides is now theirs.

If I don’t see my basket returned when I go back down there in 50 minutes to retrieve my clothes…I’m writing a strongly worded letter and posting it up for all my neighbors to see so they don’t do something stupid like leaving their own baskets down there for Suspect Zero to steal. Then again…Zero now has my basket so everyone else is probably safe.

This is just one example of the bullshit that goes on in my life. And it’s just all this trivial trifling crap that just adds up. I’m not dying of cancer…I don’t have a lifelong sexually transmitted disease that likes to pop up whenever I get a hot guy in to bed…I still have all my body parts and for the most part they are all in good working order. I can’t go on some day time show and cry whoa-is-me about my life…so you bet your ass I’m going to vent to all my blog readers! All ten of you.

Speaking of my blog…I finally reached 1,000 views. I’m somewhere at like 1,050. That’s pretty awesome. Even if it is only the same ten people viewing it a hundred times. Whatever. I’m most excited that I have people from other countries reading my blog. I mean…Canadians, Dutch, Korean…it’s awesome! I’m not sure why they’re interested in what a dumb American who doesn’t have any real life problems has to say about things…but I’m thankful nonetheless that they tune in and read.

So sometimes my luck just likes to fuck with me…like…I’ll do something one day that gets completely fucked with the very next day. For example…did you read my blog I wrote last week about starting the kitchen fire? Yeah, so I finally decide midwinter to insulate my apartment and put plastic up on my one sliding door. I went to Wal-Mart and picked out what I needed. I cleaned the window frame. I diligently double-side taped it. Then I hung the plastic, pulled it tight, and shrunk it with the hair dryer. It was warmer within hours.

Then the VERY next day I start a towel on fire that I had next to the stove causing my entire efficiency to have a thick layer of smoke. This left me only one choice to make and that was to tear down my window masterpiece, throw open the sliding door, and freeze my ass off for three hours until the smoke and the stench was out of my apartment. If only I had waited one more day to put up the plastic…

Or how about the fact that I knew I wasn’t pregnant. I never get pregnant. I’ve never been pregnant. In fact, I’m beginning to think I’m not able to get pregnant. So I figured I’d really be able to tell a difference if I was. But alas, my period was taking it’s sweet ass time and I may, or may not, have had unprotected sex a month before. While I wasn’t really worried…it wasn’t coming and I was just tired of waiting to find out if I was going to be a momma so I took the spare test I had under my sink. Sometimes peace of mind IS worth $7. Guess what I got the VERY next day? Yeah. Aunt flow came to town actually in the middle of the night…so if only I had waited one more day to take the test…

Sometimes my life just likes to fuck with me by letting me get really really happy one day…and then pissing on my happy parade the next. I had a work review a week or so ago where my boss just absolutely raves about my work. She’s got absolutely nothing bad to say and it was seriously the best review I’ve ever had. Granted it was only my 3 month review. But I had grievances with coworkers I wanted to bring up and decided to just leave it alone because I didn’t want to ruin how wonderful the review had gone. Plus inside info has suggested that things were about to change for the better.

And the VERY next day my coworker—previously a person I trusted, had hung out with, talked to for hours, and genuinely thought was my friend—decided that he was going to tell my other coworkers what I had vented to him about. Yeah…I had confided in him and he had been two-timing me the entire time. This caused a shit storm to erupt in my cubicle area as we all sit right next to each other. One girl declared loudly that "the bitch will have to put up with me" while the other spent the next 3 days making as many snide comments and jokes that were humanly possible, at my expense. If only I had waited to tell him why I was so happy…maybe he would have waited to shit on me like that.

I have no idea what information he had been giving them but he gave me the impression that they had been emailing him regularly to find out what it was we were talking about. Can’t a girl have ONE fucking friend at work? Why did they have to go and corrupt that? I can’t believe how much these women care about me and what I do and say. I was trying very hard to stay out of their business and lives and never said or did anything to them. What I can’t believe even more is how I could have been stabbed in the back by my former friend. I’d have some more choice words to spew about this entire situation if I wasn’t already probably breaking every internet rule my job has by even mentioning it.

Other ways my life likes to fuck with me is by giving me something good…that turns out to be something really bad. Like…finally getting the office hottie, that everyone wants to fuck, in to my bed…only to have him pee all over my thigh in the middle of the night! As a side note he was very very drunk, but still no one wants to wake up to steady stream of urine on their thigh while they’re lying in bed.

How’s about finding a roommate you get the chance to explain that all other situations have gone bad in the past because they move in their boyfriend…only to have her completely disregard that conversation and move in her boyfriend? Or finding a place to sublet only to have the person never call the office back to give you the okay to move in? Or quitting a job you love because the new management sucks and has taken away all your hours just so that you’ll leave and they can hire new people?

Yeah…my life is a series of unfortunate events that rival Lemony Snicket or whatever the hell his name was. When people are involved in my unfortunate events, my friends always say “Karma’s a bitch!” I wish I could believe that those who fuck me over will get theirs someday…but I’m starting to think it’s a bunch of hooey because that means I’m getting my karma given to me right now and I don’t remember fucking anyone over. At least, no one who didn’t mess with me first. I’m a genuinely nice person who can get along with everyone. Until some jealous bitch starts shit with me because she’s threatened…then…well…what’s a nice girl to do but be bad?

The worst part about all this is that I have no one to blame but my bad luck! I mean, yeah...those people who stabbed me in the back pretty much suck...but you can't change people. You can't make people do anything they don't want to do. All you can do is rise above it all, move on, and hold a grudge for life! So who's to blame then? Is it because I was born on the 13th?? It was a Saturday, not a Friday, so that shouldn't be it...right? Who is responsible for my bad luck? It's not me...that's for sure. Why would I want to bring myself bad ju-ju? In fact if anyone has any ideas of how to get rid of this bad ju-ju...I'm open to options and comments below.

It gets a little ridiculous sometimes. I just have to throw my hands up in the air and say--here we go again! Ugh. I've said "just my luck" and "story of my life" more times than I've said anything else these past 5 years or so. Ever since college it's been one thing after another. I'm like that damn rodent that got run over and then painted over because no one even it's not enough that he got schmucked crossing the road to see his wife and kids...but then some asshole with a truck painted lines over him. That's the kind of luck I have. That's my life! I mean…let’s not even get in to the fact that I’m pushing 30 and still single. In fact, I’ve been single since W was in office…the first time. No, no…we don’t have time for that tonight. That, my friends, is a blog for another day.