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mom: Why did you break down at work?
me: there’s a form that we view often to see a client’s service plan at a glance. it was removed two weeks ago and now we have to go through 4 screens to get to the same information. i asked head of tech if they could restore that view function and he told me it wasn’t a priority. it all sounds minor but it’s been almost a year and a half of feeling undervalued and overworked and i guess being told that the very thing i need to make my job a little easier was not a priority made me feel so small and powerless and i just cried.
mom: I’ve been there. I’m always here for you. Try deep breathing while repeating cocksucking motherfucking pieces of llama shit. Or, Pam always says to think of a puppy with two tails ing, I always end up thinking of ways to slap the shit out of whoever is pissing me off instead. Probably not helpful. Could be worse.
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me: lol. this is true. it could be worse. i could be what’s her name in that movie with a prince alberted dick stuck down my throat and my friends (and the entire neighborhood) have to help me sing to get it out.
it could be much, much worse. i could be britney circa shaved head.
trials aren’t always there to make you stronger or for you to learn a specific lesson. sometimes they are there to force you to choose differently. without struggle, there is no progress but sometimes, a fight isn’t required to make it to the other side. sometimes, the real test is seeing if you know when to walk away.
“If I kiss you where it’s sore
If I kiss you where it’s sore
Will you feel better, better, better?
Will you feel anything at all?”
- Regina Spektor
i want to make a parody video about twerking (like, i’ve already filmed it in my head and it’s hilarious) but i don’t know where/how to start.
wished some of you talented videographer folk lived in my area.
if I call my father today, it will be our first conversation since the beginning of 2013.
my father has always been a difficult man to shop for, as his tastes are very particular. yet, he will be insulted by money because that indicates lack of thought. he doesn’t wear anything that stands out and most certainly not a tie. dear God, not the tie! he has a penchant for cufflinks although he has no occasion to wear them. he’s been a vegan for the past 30 years and already owns a high-end juicer. he doesn’t wear cologne (at least not that i’m aware of). he used to get reader’s digest subscriptions.
maybe that’s what i should do. get him a subscription to a magazine he likes. or i can just ask him what the hell he wants.
which means it won’t be a surprise. which he will find insulting. gah, it is so hard to shop for a secretive, reticent man with whom you have no relationship even after 19 years under the same roof. and my mother is unbelievably unhelpful.
[in writing this post i have just realized that so many of my own exacting sartorial tastes and behaviors are from my father. we both like very good, mildly/wildly expensive things and we prefer our personal effects to be just so. if you get us, life is grand. if not, cue an icy death stare. thank you daddy, for imprinting your difficult gene in my g-code. i’ll call you tomorrow and that’ll be that.]
but really guys/gals, help me?
my gym told me when i signed up that i could work out any day, any time.
i drove there today around 9 pm and discovered i’d been lied to.
i’ve been trying to hold it in all week but people make me so angry. people who give half-ass apologies and expect that real, adult friendships are maintained that way. when i have to remind someone to do THEIR job. people you have to chase to give them YOUR business. bad customer service. laziness. people who don’t take full responsibility for ANYTHING. people who just want to sweep everything under the rug and pretend it’s all hunky-dory. people who treat other people in their lives like shit who don’t deserve it. you represent everything i detest and don’t ever want to be.
karma would be less than you deserve.
ugh.
my eyes. one of my favorite parts of my body.
how creepy would it be if i made this my blog header.
the thoughts that run through my head on fridays…
… five o’clock where are you?
