Too bad you can’t actually go home after firing Monday … I might have contributed to the shit-canning of this awful day, but I still put in 13 hours of workity work work.
Speaking of work, I’m stealing an idea from Nic and asking you to pretend I just told you about my day, whereupon you act shocked and appalled and I’m saying, “I know, can you imagine?” Then we make several pitchers of margaritas and pass out in a tequila-soaked haze.
I feel better already!
Just want to thank Ian Usher for putting Dido’s “Life for Rent” in my head with his Life for Sale auction.
I give him credit. I really do. Just selling everything he owns along with a shot at his job so he can jump on a train and go somewhere, anywhere but there? Sounds pretty kickass to me.
“I’ve always thought
That I would love to live by the sea
To travel the world alone
And live more simply
I have no idea what’s happened to that dream
‘Cause there’s really nothing left here to stop me.”— Dido, “Life for Rent“
I wish I at least had the dream house and the furniture and all the neat stuff (spa, jetskis, car) to go with it. I would put my life up on eBay in a heartbeat.
Of course, my auction item would have to be non-refundable, as I presume the winner would spend one week at my job and with my mother and would be at their lawyer’s office, trying to find the suicide clause that would get me to forfeit their money or else they’d have to kill themselves after walking a mile in my stylish little shoes.
See, I’m no dummy — by the time my life auction would end, I would either be in witness protection or at least faking my death and living my life with a babushka on my head so no one would recognize me.
In any case, good luck to you, Ian, and I hope the future holds all the wonderful things that the present certainly doesn’t. I hope we hear about you again … good things, of course. If you should find your way to Washington, D.C., we’ll take wonderful care of ya. …