Bedtime Thoughts 18(or something) – Mom, Come Wipe My Ass

I was, and still am, left with the decision of either sleeping or writing, having already forgone the opportunity to masturbate, which is rare – not masturbating, me masturbating is the dictionary example of the opposite of rare, but rather deciding not to masturbate – and I was thinking about the pros and cons of each. If I were to write, as it appears I am doing now, I would be writing, which seems obvious but denotes a larger meaning, and that of course being that I am writing! (the difference between writing and writing! is the exclamation point of course). But also if I were to write the whole time I would be tired and want to be sleeping instead of this thinking. Now if I were to try and go to sleep I would get to lay in bed and not doing anything but listen to music. However, there is a strong likelihood all I would do is think for forty-five minutes until I got up in a fit and complained to the universe about how I couldn’t get to sleep. And then it dawned on me, while falling asleep all I do is think, and when I write all I’m doing is typing out the thoughts in my head, so basically by not writing I’ll still be thinking but my thoughts will just waste away into the nothingness that is my mind. Whereas if I write them down they’ll be forever saved onto the nothingness that is this blog.

This weekend I have to help my mother work, so I’ll be sitting at a theater for eleven hours on both Saturday and Sunday, but I’ll make a little cash which will keep my phone bill paid for another month or two while I continually fail to get a real job. It’s so annoying that I’m so unqualified for life, of course no one to blame other than myself for that, although I have theories, and I’ll get to them now. So I’ve filled out some applications, I don’t know if it’s a lot or not, but it’s to low level places, like literally Taco Bell, McDonalds and stuff like that. Places where the people who work there get made fun of, and not even behind their back, but directly to their face, and I haven’t had one place respond to me at all, except this one REI place or something like that who sent me back an email that said they’re going with people who fit their qualifications better – by the way their qualifications were, and this isn’t a joke (except it is), can you say, “Hello, welcome to REI,” and can you wipe your own butt. I liked getting the rejection letter though. I equate it to the time that one girl called me creepy. For weeks she had been dodging talking to me and I felt so bad because I had really liked her and then finally I found out she called me creepy and then I confronted her about it and it became clear that things weren’t going to work out between us and it felt good just to have it over with. One could argue that I should have been able to tell things weren’t going to work out when she didn’t return any of my calls. Oh, and then of course there was the restraining order (there wasn’t a restraining order) If she would have seen what I was doing in that tree outside her window all those days there would have been one (that’s a joke people) or at least until the court hearings are over my lawyers insist that it’s a joke.

So we know I suck at getting a job, but I still haven’t got to the one fault that I don’t think is mine. The being 23 and never having a job and not being able to drive and not having a degree and not being able to make a resume correctly, and having bad grades in school, and never having had sex (why does that matter?) I just wanted to mention it again (oh) and not being able to lie so I sound better to companies is all my fault. But what isn’t my fault is my first name being Danniel. Don’t just glance over that and assume it says Daniel, because it doesn’t. It says Danniel, with two n’s. My mother spelled it that way because she smoked a lot of pot in high school which apparently stayed in her system for the next decade until she had me. Don’t get me wrong, I actually like it because I have this desperate need to be unique, which is ironic because wanting to be unique isn’t unique. And I like even better that my middle name is Quentin and that’s what I go by with my friends and all those who I deem nice/sweet/cool/whatever enough to be in my life, but with things like jobs or whatever I’m just going to go by Danniel because that the first name on all my official documents, so it’s just easier that way. But there’s an inherent problem with it, well I suppose not really inherent, I just say inherent way too much. There’s a problem, and there might be some inherentness in it, and that possibly semi-inherent problem is that my first name is Danniel spelled with two n’s.

It probably looks like I’m a colossal idiot when I fill out all these applications and make my crappy too-full-of-lackluster-truths resume. I can’t stop wondering how many of these people think I’m misspelling my own first name. That’s probably why I didn’t get asked to interview for the REI job. If I can’t even spell my own name right how can I be expected to wipe my own ass?


About Danniel
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4 Responses to Bedtime Thoughts 18(or something) – Mom, Come Wipe My Ass

  1. ninjapoptart says:

    Try lying on one single resume and see what the results are.

    In all honesty, I think you’re much better suited for a job that doesn’t include dunking frozen fries and/or tortillas in hot oil. You should donate to the sperm bank, you would make good money for something you apparently do on a regular basis anyway (this wasn’t my original suggestion for something you’re better suited for, it just suddenly popped into my head a moment ago).

    As for what you’re better suited for, well, I don’t know the smaller details in your life to really suggest what you could do but I think you can do better than fast food jobs. I just like to think that funny, snarky people have all the potential in the world if they just knew what they wanted to do.

    • Danniel says:

      Well I don’t want a real life sustaining job. I just want something where I can save money up until I go crazy and move to LA only to be drained of my money and the little self confidence I have and then come back home to live with my parents until I die unhappily. Or something happier than that.

      Also, nice to know that when thinking of me and jobs sperm donor pops into your head. I take that as the highest of compliments. Or it says way too much about how your mind works…kidding.

  2. sololos says:

    I wouldn’t worry about the name thing. People have so many different names and so many stupid ways of spelling it that they probably won’t think about it.

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