3:02 p.m. - 2005-05-09
Think about it. Most of the time, when you get rid of a job or a man, it's because it's making you completely miserable, you're not getting what you need, and you would rather be celibate/starve/be homeless/have no date for holiday parties if the alternative is to stay with said job or said man.
Sometimes, though, the relationship is not ended by your choice. Sometimes, your man unexpectedly dumps you, and sometimes, you lose your job. At these times, if the job or the man says "baby, I made a mistake, and I want you back"…it's very hard to remember what you done said about recycling.
You should remember.
See, I went back to my old job. The one from which I was unceremoniously laid off with 45 minutes notice. But see, I LOVED it. It was everything I ever wanted in a job. Good money, good benefits, cool boss, no stress. And I knew it wasn't forever when I signed up. I knew my man had him another woman, but I figured, hey, we'll see the end coming, I'll enjoy it while it lasts, I'll have time to say my goodbyes and prepare for the loss, move on slowly.
Instead, my two-timing partner kicked me to the curb.
Or that's what I thought, three months ago.
But it was resurrected in the form of a phone call from my former office manager, and she said she wanted me back. The man realized that throwing away his relationship with me was a big old mistake and we could make it work.
Maybe I should stop with the metaphors, because really, this is still a temporary job.
But no, the metaphor is a good one. More like, your cheating lying sack of shit partner that you still love despite all evidence that s/he is completely worthless and no good asks you to come back…and you go. Because even though the ending hurt you very badly, you thought you could put the past behind you and resurrect the good parts of your relationship.
Somehow, though, even though you're getting some of the good stuff, you still don't trust the relationship. You still wonder if you're going to wake up one morning to an empty bed and an "I don't love your ass" note on the kitchen counter. You're not giving everything anymore. Even though you've spent months imagining your triumphant return to the arms of your lover, you really feel more like you're sneaking in the back door and hoping no one sees you creeping up the stairs.
I still like it here….but the magic is gone.
So I've been sick as hell for the last week. Stupid GID and his stupid upper respiratory infection…and stupid job hasn't forked over the stupid new health insurance card yet, so I had to go to the stupid doc-in-a-box and pay $70 stupid dollars for the office visit plus $40 stupid dollars for the stupid prescriptions. Plus, I spent all week and all weekend feeling like complete ass.
1. What is your favourite Pokemon?
I don't really know any Pokemons. The only one I know is Pikachu, because my friend had a dog named that. Piki was a friendly and adorable dog, so that's my final answer.
2. Describe the best snog you've ever had
I knew you would ask the sex questions….
By "snog", I'm assuming you mean "no actual sex". So we'll go with the night I finally made out with this guy I'd had a crush on for months. We were driving around, and then we parked, and then a good snog was had, and then we went back to my place and snogged all night. Of course, the fucker broke my heart later. But that's still the best snog ever.
3. Describe the best shag you've ever had.
All night with a college boyfriend. Another asshole who broke my heart, but dear god, the boy could fuck. Of course, at the time, I wanted to be all in LOVE and shit. I didn't appreciate what I had. Figures.
And that is all the details you get, missy. I'm not the kiss and tell type.
4. if you had to only eat one food for the rest of your life what would it be?
5. what bra size are you?
From Jane (and I promise I will e-mail you interview questions soon, I'm not blowing you off, pinky swear):
Can you describe your faith/beliefs in 15 words or less?
Everything happens for a reason…you have to figure out what the reason is. (That's 14.)
I finally figured out why I didn't really like the movie Napoleon Dynamite that much.
Most movies like that start out as complete bombs. People think they are totally stupid and lame. Then, they generate a following of people who think the movie is so bad it's good, thus creating a "cult classic."
Napoleon Dynamite is like a cult classic without the crucial first phase. It's like the directors set out to make a movie that would be an instant cult classic. As a result, it seemed self-consciously quirky and contrived.
This is the shit I think about when I've had too much cough medicine and have spent too many hours playing video games.
Know when I received a notification from the post office? APRIL. 30TH. That was upon delivery of my SECOND DangerMix.
Incompetent fuckwads. It's my birthday on Thursday, and my birthday presents better arrive. My dad is sending me camping gear for the Roo. He can't believe it. He thinks I've lost my mind, but he's ecstatic that he can finally order me presents from Cabela's.
An entry from me after a long absence would not be complete without a story about the Evil Empire. This was a nail salon at the Evil Empire visit.
BFRB" and I went to get our nails done. While I'm at the drying table and she's finishing up with the manicurist, a group of African-American women are also finishing up. And they're talking about their jobs. And one of them? She is wearing this sweater and jeans. But the jeans are rolled up. And she's wearing black tights and JELLY SANDALS with them. She's showing off the sandals, too, and bragging about how she got them at Dollar General for $6, and she wore them to church, and everybody just loved them. She also appeared to have cut part of the sweater off and wrapped it around her head.
The discussion of their jobs involved such truisms as "girl, you don't want to mix your Pine-Sol with your bleach."
In an effort to remain fair and unbiased, it is also worth mentioning at this point that a fat white chick in line was wearing her some tight embroidered hip-huggers. This, on its own, is a grievous sin, but the shirt, oh the shirt. It was ruffled. And sleeveless. And WAY TOO SHORT. I mean, jiggly cellulite over the waistband too short. Plus, she appeared to be extremely fascinated by the dry ice cooler. She stared at it for a way long time. That sucked, because I was trying to point her ass out to BFRB, but BFRB couldn't really see JigglyChick because of the angle.
I promise I'll catch up on everyone's stuff soon. Sorry to be away…I've just been sick, tired, and weirded out a little. Plus, I had actual work to do last week.
That didn't last long.