June 05, 2003 - 4:36 pm

Truth be told, Iím on hiatus and donít know when Iíll be back to update. This new job in San Francisco has me feeling this constant knot in my stomach because of the stress. It doesnít help that my parents are getting a divorce, my sister is having surgery to have a lump in her breast removed, my boyfriend is broke as a mu-fucking joke and I now have an ex-roommate who hates me.

Life sucks, so I canít be the fun-loving and mischievous Annie you all have come to know and love.

Iíve been stressing out so much lately that itís affecting my sleeping patterns. Apparently itís a common side effect to have when taking the daily dosage of this job. My co-worker is going to a sleep clinic, he pretty much doesnít sleep at all and hasnít for a few weeks now.

Plus, on top of everything I live in a new city that I hate. Iím constantly wishing to be back in Sacramento. Donít get me wrong, Iím sure San Francisco is great, but for someone who has never really lived in a big city before itís pretty intimidating and cold.

The whole roommate thing is what has me upset the most now. Remember back in the beginning of January when I got a new roommate? Well I did, sorry Iím too lazy to link. ANYHOW, so my friend Bev moves in at the beginning of January. We werenít supper close, in fact excepting for taking a trip with a mutual friend to New York in November, itís pretty safe to say we were only acquaintances. So, while we were in New York, she got to talking about how she wanted to move to SF and I said (naively) ďI know how hard it is to get yourself established in the city. If you want, you can come and stay with me for a few months while you look for a job, that way you can save up for a place.Ē We continue to talk about it and she tells me that she isnít picky at all. Sheíll take a job in a bookstore or a coffeehouse if she has to, even if she has a college degree. Iím thinking, sheís a smart girl, sheíll get a job in no time.

Nice of me, right? Right.

Absolutely fucking nice of me. In fact, I think I put it best this past weekend when I said ďI was being nicer than GodĒ.

So everything is going fine. No, no, no, Iíll be honest. Everything is going spectacular. I was so excited to finally have a girlfriend in the city (since I moved here, my entire life was surrounded by boys) and she was excited that she wasnít paying rent and could just go from temp job to temp job.

Plus, I was sooo busy and stressed out with my new job that I never had time to come home and clean. Well, guess what? Bev was washing all the dishes, sweeping and cleaning off the stove. So that was extremely nice.

And maybe I even got a little spoiled. In fact, after awhile I didnít thank her for cleaning any more. I thought to myself, ďIím paying $1000 a month in rent for the both of us and in return, she can do my dishes and provide some good female bondingĒ. Believe me, I thought I was the one getting the best deal here.

February comes around and all is good. Eli and I start experiencing a little slump in our sex lives because Iím so stressed out plus we canít do it with Bev in the next room. See, itís a pretty small one bedroom and the bedroom and living room (like many one bedrooms in San Francisco) are separated by French doors. Yeah, sheíd hear it all people and I was uncomfortable with that because I knew it would make her uncomfortable.

March comes around and I notice that Bev is constantly broke, has worked a total of about 5 days, refuses to sign up with more than one temp agency and is not really following up with businesses she sends her resume to. Okay, I try to encourage her to follow up with people. I even start looking for jobs for her, I come across one that is with an organization that my workplace is affiliated with. I tell her about it and say that she can put me down as a reference. I even have my boss, who is a pretty influential guy send an email over to the organization giving a little recommendation for her.

Nice of me, right?

So the stress is building. The pressure is on at work, I start having conflict with a co-worker, my boss is a nutcase and I find out about my little sister (sheís 17) having not one, but many lumps in her breasts.

Iím not well, in fact by this time I really start to recognize that Iím depressed. I need my space.

April comes along and Bev is still there. Yeah. Apparently sheís one of those people who doesnít know that a few means 3. But since Iím going to Costa Rica, I decide she can stay and have the apartment to herself while Iím gone. Keep in mind that she still has not even offered to give me a dime for rent. Sheís still living at my place for free.

Nice of me, right?

But, wait! They need me at work! I canít go to Costa Rica? What?!?

Hmmm, boss has an idea. He knows that Bev is looking for a job. Why not have Bev temp here while Iím gone? Weíll pay her!

So guess what, Iíve gotten her a temp job at my work. Sheís going to get paid, fairly well to do a really easy job and put up with some annoying people.

Nice of me, right?

Anyhow, I go to Costa Rica and Wham! my parents are getting a divorce. Because my family lives so far away, I guess they decided that I didnít need to know. ďYeah, I can totally understand that Mom and Dad, you fuckersĒ.

I come back and decide that its finally time to ask Bev to leave. She has not clued me in as to what her situation is or when she plans to leave.

I tell her at the end of April that Iíd like her out by June and luckily two days later she finally lands a job. After not having worked for 4 and half months.

Mmm-hmm, not picky. Bookstore, coffeehouse-my fucking ass!

See, Iím thinking sheís been living here for 4 months free of charge now. I guess 5 would be okay, but 6 is just out of the question. I think thatís pretty fair.

In the back of my mind Iím thinking, I could never do this. I could never freeload off someone this much and not offer to give them at least some money.

So guess what happens when I tell her she has to be out by June.

Iíll give you a hint, my apartment turns into a fucking pig-sty. Not only has she stopped cleaning and washing my dishes, oh no, the girl is no longer washing her own. Thatís right, Iím paying rent and pretty much cleaning up half the mess sheís making.

Was she mad because I was telling her she has to leave? Was her way of expressing it by boycotting dishes?

It got to a point where I had a plate of her food sitting on my counter for two days.

Throughout this, Iím still trying to deal with everything else going on. Iím constantly doubting myself for having moved to the city and taking the job I took. Iím living the life of a 40 year old instead of that of a twenty-four year old young woman. My life sucks.

So the weekend of May 24-25 comes around, the last full weekend in May and Iím thinking Eli and I will have some time to make whoopee while sheís out looking for apartments. Because, you know, finding a place to live might take a little time. Well, audience, I was wrong. According to Bev, the last weekend in May is the one where you do nothing all day but sit on the living room couch and watch tv.

Iím going a little nuts here. I start to avoid going home and start to get angry because Iím avoiding staying at the apartment that I pay $1000 a month to stay at because some bitch has invaded my territory. I sit here and stress and stay awake at night, only to wake up in the morning and cry at this situation I feel I canít do anything more about.

Friday May 30th 2003. I ask Bev if sheís found a place yet and her response is that sheís going to look at 3 different places tomorrow. In case any of you donít follow, ďtomorrowĒ is May 31st, the last day in May.

Yeah.

ďSoooo, whatís your backup plan?Ē I ask her.

ďUm, sleep at work?Ē she says.

ďHa, ha, sleep at work, thatís cute. No really.Ē I say

ďWell, I have to like one of them.Ē is her response.

ďOkay, well Bev, Iím getting kind of worried. I donít want you sleeping at work.Ē I say. Truthfully, I donít want her sleeping at work because Iíd rather see her sleeping in a box on the corner of Bush and Hyde.

ďWhat about staying with your mom?Ē I say. Oh yeah, did I forget to mention that Bevís mom lives 20 minutes away in Oakland? oops.

ďNo, thereís just no way. I canít do that. I just canít. My mom and I we just do not get alongĒ

Hmm, is it because she was a single mom raising 3 kids busting her ass so that her youngest, you, could go to a hoity-toity private Catholic school and you never said thank you or appreciated her? Okay, Iím getting a little out of hand, to be honest, I donít know enough about her home life to say any of the above is even remotely close to true. Back to the story.

Conversation ends with me saying, Ďyou need a back up planí.

At this point, I realize sheís going to be here on Sunday June 1st, too, which was the day that I planned to clean and de-Bev my whole apartment. The thing is, she doesnít ask. She doesnít say Ďhey annie, is it okay if I just stay here one more day?í No, she just stays.

Sunday June 1st comes around and I find out that she is staying at extended stay hotel downtown. Itís costing her $300 for the week.

Considering she hasnít paid rent in the last 5 months, that shouldnít be too difficult.

Considering sheís the one who chose to wait until May 31st to start her apartment search I shouldnít feel too bad, right?

So I should also completely understand why sheís being a complete bitch to me that day right?

WRONG, MOTHER FUCKERS! WRONG!!!

So she starts acting weird, not her usual friendly self. In fact, put simply sheís sulking. Sulking! At me! The person who has just put up with her lazy ass for 2 and a half fucking months ( I donít think I was Ďputting upí with her for the first part of the 5 months, I actually enjoyed having her there).

During this whole last week Iím feeling pressure from Eli to let Belva stay with him. He sees it as a way to get her out of my hair, because we donít spend that much time at his apartment and he really doesnít care about the fact that she has completely freeloaded off/stressed me out for the past 5 months, despite the fact that he was almost always at the end of those frantic morning phone calls. In fact, Eli is sympathetic to the fact that she sat on her fucking ass all weekend when she was supposed to be looking for apartment. Yeah, heís more sympathetic to that than he is to the fact that we have not had an ounce of fucking privacy in the last five months. Poor Bev.

I donít want her there and I donít think I need to explain why. I want her out of my life, completely and for some reason the thought of her moving in with my boyfriend does not excite me. Not after all the shit Iíve been through and the fact that even though I donít spend too much time at his house, I do spend some times there. Besides, how weird would it fucking be to see her there every time I do go over there. I mean and wouldnít she feel weird too? Speaking objectively, I think that is a little pathetic.

Finally, I just gave in though and told Eli she could stay at his place. Why? Well, because I felt like the reasons I was giving Eli for not wanting her to stay at his place were not good enough and I could tell he didnít think they were too great either. In retrospect, I still donít think I should have even been questioned on it. I know that Eli wanted to understand but it seemed like nothing I was saying was a good enough reason for him and so I started to doubt myself. After what Iíve been through, I have every right to want her out of my life and to feel some resentment towards her.

The truth is I should have stood my ground. I knew that there would be problems if she stayed there, I knew that it would open up a can of worms that had been pretty contained for a few months. But I was a chump and I didnít want to keep trying to explain myself, especially because I was frustrated at the idea that my boyfriend of all people was not understanding. Itís weird, I got all girly. In my head, I was having argument after argument ďHe should know, he should just know, I shouldnít have to explain myself. He should just know what a bad idea this is.Ē

But he didnít know. Now sheís over at his house mooching off him and his roommates and it makes me sick to my stomach.

Oh, and ask me if she said ďthank youĒ for letting her stay with me. Go on, ask me.

SHE DIDNíT EVEN FUCKING SAY THANK YOU!

I email her yesterday because someone left a message for her on my machine regarding one of the apartments she looked at. Yes, Iím her sugar momma, and her secretary now, people. So does she even reply and say ďthank you for sending me the messageĒ. NO! NO!!!!

The fact is, after all this, she is not speaking to me. Thatís right, sheís actually the one who is mad at me.

It must be because I let her live with me for 5 months free of charge, man what a bitch I am.

I was fine for a couple of days, I managed to push all of it back but now I feel sick again.

Thereís an entry for yoí ass.

Friday Bingo - Pigeons in the Park

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