August 3, 2009

I am a fucked-up-chick magnet.

I wonder what it is that makes me attractive or seemingly interesting to fucked-up chicks with mental issues, fucked-up tattoos by user ex-boyfriends, and fucking batshit insane families with just as many problems. I would like to think that maybe their families are unstable and unbalanced because of their fucked-up daughters, but I have a feeling that it's practically genetic and goes all the way back through the lineage. Seriously, why does every girl that finds me attractive seem to have a broken fucking home? Or demented, society-rejected best friends? Or two or three jealous, psycho ex-boyfriends? Or, hell, girlfriends for that matter?

I went to the gas station late last night, the same one I always go to. More for convenience's sake than anything else. There's a decent looking girl that works there, but definitely nothing special. Somewhat white trash, too, which is a love/hate thing for me, much in the same sense as Fricker's. But I had no idea. She occasionally flirts, and anyone who knows me knows that I show so much interest when people try striking up conversations. So, with that in mind, we all know how white trash love it when you ignore them.

But it never fails that she always wants to talk. The other week I overheard her bitching to the other clerk about her boyfriend dumping her. So I tried to avoid her line, but the guy closed his on my way up there. Shit. I got up to the counter and she just stared, with a couple of tears running down her cheek. Aww, your boyfriend left your clingy, whiny ass behind? How sad. Stop crying, take my fucking money, and let me take my half-gallon of Monster and get the fuck out of here already. Do you and me a favor, stop sobbing hysterically, buy a hatchet, and go kill your new ex.

Anyway, last night I went in, got a salad and a Sobe Lifewater, which is basically sugar and water. I get up to the counter and she says, "Hey, babe. You know you can get another packet of salad dressing for free?" "Oh, yay," with all of the enthusiam I could muster. Then I made my first mistake, when I asked how she was. "Not good..." Fuck, now I have to ask why. "My house got broken into last night, while I was asleep." Instead of asking if she was alright, I said, "Did they take anything?" "$150 out of my purse." "Wow, crazy. You should get a gun," I said somewhat jokingly. "I would if I could, but I'm not allowed to." Oh, fuck, I knew it. What kind of fucked-up chick am I talking to and didn't realize? "I got a felony that comes off in 2011. Still on house arrest, but I get a work release."

Why does this always happen to me? Apparently I'm a fucked-up-chick magnet. Just something else I'm good at, I suppose.

When I got off work today, I had a plan. I bought a 12-pack of Corona with every intention of drinking them all tonight. That's when it hit me. I know what they see in me: their drunken step-dads right before they beat them. They just can't get enough.

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