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begging 2.0
07/19/2008 = 07:31 AM

Banker 1: You can't leave yet.
Me: Do you realize that, the longer we stay here, the more we have to dip into our dwindling travel fund to live, and soon we won't have any money to leave?
Banker 1: Hrm. Yes, we can see that.
Banker 2: We just don't care.
Me (crying): I hate you.
Banker 2: Well, that does pose a problem.
Banker 1: No, it doesn't. She might hate us, but we still have jobs.
Banker 2: Oh, yes, so we do. (Bankers exit, skipping happily)

I wish I could say I'm too proud to beg, but I'm too tired to say that.

People just like you sent Hilly to Philly for a weekend (note: I contributed $5 to that myself, because she deserved it).

I hope you can find it in your hearts (and pockets) to help That Man of Mine and me pay for our trip, because at this point, with all the delays and everything, we've got about enough gas money to get to Greenwich, which means we'd only have about a million miles to go to get to Andy's house.

I'd sell you guest blogs in return for your donations, as I have done in the past, but since we'll be on the road for about a week and then, I hope, looking for and quickly finding permanent work, I might not have time to write them.

I don't have trouble asking for help for others, and I don't have trouble helping others, except recently.

Some of you may have been on the receiving end of help from me, back when I put my faith into some bitch Victoria Moran and gave so much of myself and what little money I had, only to be rewarded for my efforts by winding up a charity case.

Yes, the Universe is smiling on me, much as sharks smile on smaller fish.

But what could I expect from a universe that has not only let me come to this pass after I have spent so much time, money, and energy trying to help others, but has also said, "As long as we're working on her, let's make her allergic to chocolate"?

I still have trouble asking for help for myself. But I'm against the wall, here.

I shall try to get around it by asking for help for the following people, instead:

• My parents. They've bailed me out so many times in my life there's nothing left of the bucket but holes.
• Nrem. If we start across the country and can't get farther than Columbus, we're going to have to move in with her, and she did not sign up for that in any manner.
• Andy. We've already shipped a bunch of our possessions to his house, and he's no doubt looking forward to getting his space back even before we show up. If we can't show up, he's screwed.
• Everybody Else. For every dollar you donate, that's one less dollar some other person has to.

If you can't help, I ask only that you not feel guilty. This is difficult, I know, because any time anyone has asked me for help I couldn't give, I not only feel guilty, but I often help anyway, which digs my hole deeper. Please don't do that to yourself.

Here is the new button. I'm not putting any restrictions on amounts. Give what you feel you can comfortably stand. If you want me to pay you back, I can't give you a time frame on when that will be, but let me know and I will budget for it as soon as money's flowing back in.

If you make a donation, I will give you a button for your website. It will look like this, only without the watermark.

Also, if you could spread the word, that'd be helpful.

To those of you who no doubt will surf on in here, not knowing the whole story, and berate me for:

• not looking for work when I have been
• not losing my job in the first place when it was eliminated due to the economy in our area
• being an irresponsible little bitch without any savings when, in actuality, I did have savings once upon a time, but then I fell in love and got married, more fool me

to you I say, yes, I know, and I'm sorry, all right? But I still have to start over and I'm grasping at straws here. Thanks in advance for kicking me when I'm down, and now you may take your smug ass and move on to go be better than your next victim.

To the rest of you, whether you can help me or not, thank you at least for being here and listening to me vent my frustration, grief, and exhaustion. You are my heroes.

Tags: begging

drinking: water
listening to: the sound of my heart breaking
hating: the cold dead souls of the bankers