vent

My mum was hit by a car yesterday. Luckily, she just has a few bumps and bruises (on her shoulder, elbow, hip and knee) and was pretty shaken up, but nothing worse happened.
She was crossing the street, on a green light, when a gigantic, super expensive, fancy car came racing around the corner, knocked her over and just went on driving.
I am so very happy that mum wasn’t hurt more badly, but my heart breaks when I think about her lying in the middle of the road all by herself, trying to get up and check herself. That image keeps popping up in my mind and makes me very, very sad.

^{To make things worse, she was on her way to the dentist, urgh!}

I will never, ever understand how a person can knock someone over by car and just leave. It’s simply beyond me.

This morning when I went to wash my hair, I almost fell nose-first in the shower. I’ve been feeling dizzy for a while now – perhaps it’s just low (or oscillating?)blood pressure, perhaps it’s too much staring at the computer screen.

If this doesn’t go away fast, I’ll have to do something about it.
I honestly don’t feel very well.

No, it didn’t stop at three.

On Wednesday the electricity company told us we still owed some money (funny how they NEVER owe anything, they NEVER make a mistake). We are extremely careful with their bills and always calculate everything meticulously and pay on time, and still they find some hole where another 10% of my monthly pay has been hiding. And now they want it.

Yesterday the car started slowing down and choking. B took it to the mechanics today, I’m now only waiting for him to call me to tell me the cost. I wonder if we could live on love next month?

EDIT: Mechanic charged another 30% of my monthly pay.
If this continues we will have to think of something, I don’t know what.

Last Friday, I was working late (surprise, surprise) and B came to pick me up in town. Only he came when I wasn’t finished still so he parked the car and came to my office to keep me company (the chance of my boss showing up at 7PM are ridiculously small). When I was ready to go, we found that our car had been towed away! There aren’t words in any language that could describe how furious I was. OK, it was B’s fault that he parked outside the lines, but by the time we arrived there, another car had already been happily parked in the exact same spot and nobody bothered them.

Needless to say, the guys at the towing place were rude and stuck up, but I told them what I thought of them and their jobs at that criminal company that just claimed the entire town and started charging like mad.

When we got home (on a verge of a fight, of course), I found a parking ticket on the back seat, that B had just chucked there without even looking. It turned out it was issued by the traffic police and totally separate from the tow service – both combined, this overtime (my company never pays my overtime hours) COST ME 20% of my month’s earning.

As I said in the title, they always come in threes…yesterday B’s mum called and said they were in some kind of financial troubles (as always) and asked him to lend them some money. A lot. Which we agreed that we would (B told her that he needed to speak to me first, which I found very respectful), but I’m afraid we can kiss that money goodbye.

I’m not happy about this, because helping out is OK, I help my mum whenever I can, but his parents are awful with money, and I would hate them to start seeing us as an interest-free bank – that could lead to many unpleasant situations in the future.
Moreover, B was their little failure all his life, but he’s all accomplished now, isn’t he?

We’ll have to wait and see.
And hope they don’t come in fours. Or fives. Or…

Our government, which usually moves at a pace of a stoned snail, hurried to tie another ball and chain on the vassals citizens of this poor country. It is called “solidarity tax”, and is induced in order to help this country crawl out of crisis.
To be honest, they will only be taking a tiny amount of my pay, 2% (and I don’t earn a lot; they will take 4% off my boyfriend’s pay, since he earns almost twice more than me), but if they took a single cent to cover for their expenses and ignorance, I’d still be furious.
As I am today. I took the payrolls to the financial agency earlier today and the lady there told me it should be OK, because these are July payrolls, and the tax doesn’t apply until tomorrow, Aug.1st.

I came back to the office, and here I am, cheering Wren The Brave One with every cheer I had, and listening to the radio. They just announced on the news that the tax will include July’s pays as well (is this even legal??) and that documents will be rejected and people will have to return from their vacations to sort this out.
I am furious. FURIOUS. There is no end to this.

My accountants are on vacation too, so I have no-one to call at the moment, and have to wait until Monday. UUURRRRGGGGGHHHHHH!!!!!!

_{last year when I went on my vacation my parents had their apartment broken into, and there was a suicide in the family we know. Maybe I should work the year through? UUUURRRRGGGGHHHH}

My boss is such a moron sometimes.
At times I want to smack him across his face with a stapler.
Maybe then he’d realize that it’s no wonder you don’t know what’s going on if you spend half your time playing spider solitaire and the other half drinking IN FRONT of the office building.

On Wednesday, July 1st, our PM resigned from all his positions, much to the surprise of the government, and the general public especially. He left without giving a proper reason or explanation to anyone.

It is a well known fact that rats are the fist to flee a sinking ship.

This may be a sign of (even) harder times ahead.

I’m getting really tired of this. If it’s not one thing it’s another.
When I feel like this, I always remember what my Dad used to say to me when I was little: if you’re not happy, if somebody’s hurt you, you probably deserved it.

I’m not happy.
I’ve been hurt.
I don’t know if I deserved it.

One type of tourists that I detest even more than the general tourist population is the “let’s see how ordinary people live here in this wild country”. They are usually pale, generally overweight, wear disgustingly short shorts (yes, Sir, even I know you have more € in your pocket right now than I earn in a month, it still makes me feel like puking when I happen to see your, khm, private parts going out to town, yuck!).

They move around in groups, usually very big and extremely loud groups. They hang out around the place where I work (town center) and constantly shout out to each other joyfully. For some strange reason they use all their lung capacity to say things I don’t understand because I don’t speak their language(s), but can tell are not funny except to the joker’s immediate family members.

Their favourite place for “observation” is the town market.
Because of their body shape, many of them have much trouble moving between the stalls, which creates huge lines and congestions for us natives.The skinnier and eagerer among them cause the same effect because they have to take a photo of every bloody thing they see. Paprikas, lettuce, parsley bunches, radishes, oranges included.
I won’t even mention the fish market.

The worst, the absolute worst thing they do is – they look at us like we’re animals at the Zoo. I hate their condescending smiles and cameras, their thrill and excitement when they see me buying friggin’ tomatoes and potatoes for lunch today….I HATE THIS!!! I HATE BEING TREATED LIKE A LIVING EXHIBIT!!!!

I hate them crawling around ever so slowly and casually, not caring that I’m on my 30min lunch break, and TOUCHING fresh food (yes, fruit and veggies grow without the plastic food film, you moron!) with their gross fingers, smelling it and putting it back because they actually had lunch already, probably as a part of their all inclusive vacation package. OK, but that’s MY lunch you’re sniffing at!!!!

You didn’t see me poking about your plate earlier today, did you?
So….back off!!!!!!!

Once a had this humongous woman give me a little shove so she could get a better composition for her local-girl-buying-fresh-spinach photo. I stepped on her toes and turned away. Man, I was furious.

An old lady from an island here in Croatia told me a few years ago that one summer she had to fight a group of tourists who came into her house (the old lady lives alone and doesn’t lock the door) and wanted to look around. She politely asked them to leave, since it was her home and everything, and they told her not to be nervous, they were just going to have a look. As they headed for the bathroom and bedroom, she had to raise her cane and threaten to call the neighbours.

Is it possible that these people don’t realize we live real lives around here, that I pay my hard earned money for that spinach and tomatoes and that the market is a place where people work, (and that is hard work, with very early mornings 7 days a week, rain or shine)?
The stalls are not put up for tourist amusement.
Don’t they understand that? Are they capable of respecting anything except of their own??

I’m gonna stop now.

_{I’ve already lost a subscriber today, and this won’t help the number, but I had to vent.}

When exactly did I learn to keep things inside???

I need to get out, my mind needs to crawl burst out and not care, not care anymore about how much better everyone else is, how much more interesting yet kind...I don’t want to feel like this any more.

I need to stop thinking about all the people who are so extraordinary it hurts, who get everything done while having the time of their lives every bloody day, who always smile and flutter about with ease, and never feel like a bull in a china shop, who are artistic and gorgeous, and bloody perfect and …...

God I’m pathetic.