Pretty Like Drugs

Oh no, I've said too much.

This is not a rant, nor an explanation.

This is going to be pretty damn long. I can already feel it. I’m writing about yesterday and today.


So, yesterday I worked 9:30 to 6:30. It wasn’t bad. I worked until 11:30 with Clarisse and then Katie came in to do an 8hr closing. It was cool. Though as always, when we have an eight hour closer, it feels more like the closer hasn’t come in yet and we’re the second-shift and pre-closer.

Anyways, it was a good shift and I pretty much always have a good time when I work with Katie. (I’m Sbux Katie. Not to be confused with my Katie who is a checker) So on my lunch break I sat and ate with Johnny (best buy) and our friend Kyle (also best buy), but my lunch was until two and theirs ended at 1:40. Johnny has pink eye and to be honest it wasn’t really something I was concerned about, though now I am starting to. I think I might just be a hypochondriac. ANYWAYS.

For the rest of my lunch break I went next door to Beverly’s and bought tiny mirrors to put behind my Poquito Casa’s lamps, some Christmas lights, and a plate hanger.

I felt great. All day. GREAT. I was happy about my work week and Mike and my lil bro coming down. Stoked.

I got home from work and spent about 45 minutes in the trailer cleaning some more. Then went to sleep around 10.


I woke up at 5:15. Tired, but okay. I get out of bed at 5:30. Mr. Happy rolls into town and I prepare for my day. I don’t really feel good, but I figure it’s because I’m up so damn early. I take some ibuprophen to try and help the onset of cramps that always accompany Mr. Happy. They don’t help much. I get to work at 6:15. I buy Midol and an Energy drink and buy them from Clarisse at Sbux.  I feel crappy but I’m hoping if I sit and eat my Midol and drink some Rockstar I’ll feel better. It’s a long walk to the break room.

On the way back there I feel like I’m going to pass out. I start sweating, like I have a fever, and my vision gets spotty. I make it into the bathroom, drop all my crap (purse, energy drink, etc) on the ground and make it to a toilet just in time to start vomiting. I text my dad to come back. The vomitting ceases.

I wash my face and clean myself up, focus really hard and make it back to Starbucks. I ask Clarisse who the MOD (manager on duty) is, and it’s Pat, who just so happened to be walking by right then. I explain to both of them what just happened. Pat Immediately tells me, “It’s no problem. Go home.” and Clarisse is like, “Yeah you didn’t look good earlier and now you look terrible. We’ll call and see if Katie can come in early.”

I tell them I’m sorry and I gotta go and call dad and wait for him.

I didn’t get my inventory done today. I feel fucking miserable. Like I’m letting Stacie down and the whole department. I tried to go in and straight up there was no point in me even being there. I would’ve been worthless. And being sick at work = worst thing ever.

So yeah, that was my day.


One response to “This is not a rant, nor an explanation.

  1. Pingback: Worky Work! So good! « Pretty Like Drugs

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