I Hexed A Mean Man At The Casino.

You know how I am a pretty non-controversial person and pretty much keep to myself and stuff – I mean, unless I am at work kicking ass and taking names, that is?

I was at the casino yesterday (Monday) with Josh and Roger and they were somewhere, and I was wandering around, yeah?  I wandered down a row of machines and there were four on each side.  It was a walking area, there is no doubt about that.  I was looking at my phone (Pokemon) (shut up), and I heard…and I am going to quote exactly what this dude said, so please let us all acknowledge that I do not say these words and I am actually having a hard time even typing them.  So the guys says…

Him:  Da fuck are you doing?
Me:  Huh? Me?
Him: You KNOW better than to do that, fuck, you’ve been in casinos.
Me: I…I…what?
Him:  You KNOW what the fuck I’m talking about, get the hell out of here.
Me:  (flapping) What?? I…I…I…walking…I was…
Him: Are you fucking retarded?  You know how this works, you’ve been in casinos before, you have a voucher.
(he is referring to the voucher that prints out when you cash out of a slot machine)
Me:  (still flapping and kind of bouncing) It’s for fifty one cents.
Him: Fifty one cents, I don’t give a fuck.
Me: I don’t know what I did!
Him: Fuck you.

At this point I kind of hopped away.  I know for a fact I did not bump into him, because that would have sent ME spazzing out before he had the chance to react.  I know I did not step on anything, because again, I would have spazzed out first.

I went to a machine that had penguins and put in $20 and laughed stupidly at the penguin animations and then I thought “Da fuck?  That guy has no business!” and so I decided to retaliate.

I went back over to where this guy (and his three old lady friends) were, and I…stood there.  Like this.


You can see Old Lady #1 and Old Lady #2, but you cannot see #3 or The F-Bomb Man.  The main point of this picture is my proximity to the people, and well, if you recognize either old lady please send them hate mail on my behalf.

I hexed the man and his family.  I wished for him to have to pee often throughout the night; for him to see my face every time he tried to get naked with someone; for him to spill his beverage every time he had one;  for his family to never win any money (they weren’t winning, so I think I was succeeding);  and I tried to set him on fire with my brain.

The F-Bomb Man was sitting directly in front of me.  When I stood there, he looked over his shoulder, and I smiled.  He looked back at his machine, then at me.  I smiled again.  Back at the machine, back at me.  More smiling.  He decided to exert his authority to show that I am not allowed to have that machine (I didn’t want it in the first place, I do not just sit in between people, I only take machines on the ends!) by leaving $1 in the machine and getting up and sitting in a chair for a different machine that he was not using.  You see, if someone has their card or money in a machine you cannot just sit and take it.  Someone else walked by and started to try to sit there, not realizing his card and $1 was in there, and he yelled at her.  She gave him a look and walked away.  He looked at me and I looked at him and he glared and I smiled and STARED STRAIGHT INTO HIS EYEBALLS.  Those of you who know me know this is no easy feat.  I held it for a good 30 seconds, and he looked away first.

He played his $1 and then escorted Old Lady #4 (who I don’t think was even with this group, I honestly think he grabbed a random old lady) to the machine and had her play there – presumably, again, so that I could not.  She ran out of money and left.

We’re at 15 minutes at this point, of me just standing there hexing him and smiling every time he looked at me.

You see that lady in green?  When F-Bomb Man and Random Old Lady ran out of money, she put her feet up on the chair in front of that machine and then turned around and looked at me.  I smiled.  After awhile, she started playing two machines – the machine her bottom half was playing, and the machine her top half was playing.

Another lady walks by – and this is where I realized these people are just jerks and it wasn’t a race issue – I am white and the previous lady who tried to play the machine was white.  But this second lady was black, and she asked Old Lady #2 (Green Lady) if she could use one of the machines.  Green Lady said no.  Second Lady said “I don’t think you’re allowed to play two machines at once”.  F-Bomb Man got up and walked towards Second Lady.  Second Lady turned to me and I said “Yeah, they’ve been doing this for 20 minutes now” and we openly and loudly talked about how rude they are.  Then Second Lady said “I really don’t think a person is allowed to use two machines at once” and I said “I’ll go tell on them!” and I turned and went to find someone to tattle to.

I found a group of employees and told them what was happening, and they were VERY nice and sympathetic, but said “What card level are you?” and I said that I do not have a card, but the Bad People had cards (you can stick a card in the machine for like, points).  The employees looked at each other and said they would be happy to get a supervisor, but if I do not have a card, they will do what the people with the cards want regardless of how mean it is.

Then my back hurt really bad and Josh and Roger were leaving, so I left, too, but I regret not staying longer.

I plan on going back and looking for them as often as possible and just haunting the ever loving shit out of them.

The Attempted Assassination Of Darcy J.

Someone tried to kill me once.  Ok, they did not actively try to kill me, but they were going to allow me to die, and here is that story.

Once upon a time there was a shift leader at Half Price Books named Katie.  She was a big, evil, mean, manipulative jerk, only we did not realize the extent to which she controlled and tortured the staff until long after she left and people came out of their PTSD/Stockholm Syndrome clouds and told us.  She was really mean.

I am Diabetic and everyone knows this.  It is not something I hide, especially because I often whip out my glucometer and test my blood sugar right in front of people, or my insulin pump beeps, or more likely, people are asking me “Should you be eating that?” because I am scarfing down candy.  Everyone at Half Price Books knew I am Diabetic.

I went on my break one day and what I remember is shutting the door and muting the store phone because I had to make a personal call and did not want to be interrupted.  I remember “shooting up” (taking insulin) in preparation for eating.  Then I do not remember much else after that.  What I have been told is that I was on the couch in the office, with the door still shut and the phone still muted, asleep.  Katie and another shift leader, I am not sure which one, came in and said my name and poked me in the face with a pencil, and I did not respond.  So they left me there.

Diabetic or not, if someone did not respond, I would try more vigorously to wake them up, and then I would call 911 if they still did not respond.  Normal people in normal medical conditions wake up.

Katie chose not to do that, so I laid there while my blood sugar went lower.  When I was lucid enough to check it, it was 12.  Normal is 70-110.  Most people require medical attention at 30, and most people are unconscious at 20 or below.  I have never passed out before, and only needed help once in college when my blood sugar went so low I did not know what I was doing and my friend Mary gave me chocolate milk and soup because she recognized that I was not right.

I assume I was passed out.  Because I did not fall over, or at least, I do not remember falling over, I do not know if that counts as passing out.  I seem to have either sat or laid down on the couch and then just flopped over or something.

Thankfully my friend and fellow employee Sasha Griffin was smarter than any other employee working that day (who was aware of the fact that I was not waking up) realized this was not right and called my cell phone, which was under my head.  I do not know for sure, but I think Katie either shut the door to the office so Sasha could not get in, or told people to leave me there, because Sasha did not come in on her own.  I guess I answered my phone enough to realize I needed to open the door, but I do not remember that part.  I do remember Sasha handing me a Coke and I possibly remember that her sister and fellow employee Kira MIGHT have been there, but I do not know if that is true or not.  I also remember being soaked head to toe in sweat.

So Sasha brought me Coke and quite literally saved my life.  I do not think that I would have woken up on my own, because it is not like I had just fallen asleep, I was unconscious.  I do not remember the rest of that day because having your blood sugar go that low really messes with your brain and stuff, and so the rest of the day is a big blank spot.

I know that Katie told other people I was not waking up and that I was locked in the office because of what people told me afterwards.  I know that she poked me in the face with a pencil because she told the manager she did that.  What I can’t figure out and either no one will tell me or no one wants to admit that they were assholes, is why Sasha is the only one who was willing to not let me die.  Maybe these people were too stupid to realize that a person who isn’t waking up isn’t normal?  Maybe this happens often in their house?  I don’t know.  I also don’t know how long it would have taken me to actually die, but I know that a blood sugar level of 12 is ridiculously low and I probably should have been in the hospital at some point.

I have been really bitter about this since it happened, but at the time, it was made even more complicated by the fact that I got fired for being late coming back from break.  I had been late to work twice in the year previous to this event, and the third time is the time you get fired.  I wrote a note in my stupor, and I don’t know what it said and no one ever showed it to me afterwards, but my manager said that it said something like “I took insulin and didn’t eat and my blood sugar was low so I understand if you have to fire me”.  The firing came from a long discussion that resulted in “She took insulin and voluntarily didn’t eat so it’s her fault”.  Needless to say, I called the corporate office and was “unfired” within two hours.  I was told I did not make it clear it was a medical emergency.  I could understand that, depending on what I wrote.  If I said I took insulin and didn’t eat, most people who worked with me knew that meant I would have been impaired in some way, but I can’t expect someone to know that me being unconscious was a result of low blood sugar….except that actually, yes I can, and that’s a big part of the reason I am still bitter about it.  I WAS UNCONSCIOUS.  Someone should have called 911.  They LITERALLY left me back there to die.  And *I* am the one who got fired?!

One of the “post drama” rumors was that Katie actually told people to leave me back there because she wanted to make me look bad, and if that is the case, Sasha is even more of a super hero for defying orders.  But even if that isn’t the case, there were probably 8-10 people there that day who chose not to call an ambulance when a coworker was in a very clear medical emergency.  WTF?!  Who does that?!

I feel like I should be allowed to sue someone for attempted murder.  At the time, partly because of the after effects of such low blood sugar and partly because of the shock of actually being fired for that – I never really asked anyone, Katie in particular, why they were ok with me dying back there.  What if Sasha didn’t realize I didn’t come back after break, or didn’t hear Katie laughing about how I wasn’t waking up?  What if no one came back there for an hour and I was actually dead?  I probably still would have been fired.

I am happy to say that would not happen where I currently work.  If they saw me unconscious, they are smart enough to know that isn’t normal, and they are nice enough to not intentionally leave me unconscious because they want to make me look bad.

Here is a picture of Harry Connick Jr. from when I saw him in concert last night.  We waited in the sleet and hail by his tour bus and he came out and very quickly signed autographs.  My friend Sabrina the Human took this picture.  I handed him my “myfoodisproblematic” business card with a picture of my cat on it and I said “Hi Harry Connick Jr. this is a picture of my cat and it has my website on it and there are videos of dogs eating peanut butter” and he said “That’s awesome, I love that!  Thank you!” so now maybe Harry Connick Jr. will watch the videos of dogs eating peanut butter.