To “cap” off a banner day, I just swallowed the temporary cap on my tooth. Dentist tomorrow.
Oh, the joy of losing time during a holiday-shortened week.
Speaking of losing time today, I lost the whole morning due to [comment redacted before I even typed it].
Now, whether to bother Googling what could happen after swallowing a hunk of cement …
That almost all of your problems (and I am using “your” in the plural sense, as in “our”) can generally be traced back to one source? Who cannot be arsed to fix any of them because they believe they cannot gain anything by it? Hypothetically speaking, natch.
Relevant: The 4 Reasons You’re Unmotivated (And the Antidote for Each)
Why are we so afraid that being on the verge of a breakthrough could just as easily end in a breakdown as a break out?
Amityville offers quite a cast of characters. Most have come and gone without me even noticing. While others leave an indelible stain on my soul.
Arthur the Attorney who moved out recently was a friend, as was Lady V down the hall. She’s still here but things are … complicated there.
And we know my zero-tolerance policy for drama.
In any event, there’s a gal who’s lived here throughout my five years. Bitch be cray with a capital CRAY.
Generally I know her by her wigs. She must have a pumpkin-sized noggin like mine because none of them fit her right. I have one wig that I bought with the intent of “wear it when running late for work.”
But my brain is way too big to be contained in that little petite mop. So, it’s in a box till some voodoo priest shrinks my head or something equally ridiculous.
In any event, Lisa doesn’t work. Her car doesn’t run. I’ve never seen her leave. But she fucks any male who walks onto the premises. Good-looking ones, too.
Till they realize she’s BONKERS. And run screaming.
Today Lisa reeled in some guy (kind of hot) and was asking him to take her for a ride. Which, obviously, her car doesn’t work. And she had a new wig to show off. Which, like all the others, was crooked and pulled way too far down her forehead.
I’d feel sad for her if I weren’t worried she’d cut me while I walk past her.
The man she was with was clearly trying to GET AWAY. He looked at me, almost for help.
What you boys don’t understand is I know y’all like a crazy bitch. The crazier, the better. Crazytown seems to have an altar and a justice of the peace, too. So, tie some cans to your car and prepare to live out your dreams … or Stephen King or Wes Craven’s dreams. Whichever.
So anyway, he’s looking at me like, hunh, picked up the wrong chick here.
And while he was cute, let me break it to you gently, men who associate with crazy bitches lose their cute in a BIG hurry. I’ve got my own special brand of cray but most bitches make that drink a lot stronger than I ever will.
So, good luck with that, hot stuff.
But while you leave skid marks on your way out of this pothole-filled parking lot, don’t worry about her being lonely. Residents last here on average 67 days. We’ll have a whole new batch for cray-cray to prey upon in no time.
I noticed my old church is hiring someone with my weirdly wonderful skill set. And it doesn’t pay jack.
Funny how they rake in billions and just opened up a ministry in NYC and they go all over the planet saving the world but couldn’t spare a dime for their local fellowship.
Also funny how they all preach that we should have bigger dreams, bigger goals, bigger tithes. That we shouldn’t settle for the current size of our houses or for our current jobs or even our current lots in life.
God wants us to dream bigger, live bigger, give bigger. That I agree with. Except when it comes to “giving bigger” to these religious corporations that don’t give a good God damn about the people who need their leadership most.
And that they can’t even pay commensurate with those dreams, well, says it all.
Fools.
D.C. ranks third in employee satisfaction.
Here’s how D.C.’s top companies are re-imagining the office.
Did you ever hear the sound of something failing before it even got off the ground?
Trust me, you don’t have to listen too closely. It pretty much puts a cymbal over your head and beats it with a hammer.
*stuffing fist in mouth and whipping out offline journal*
In either case, I extended an offer for one of my candidates to become my protege and he said yes.
Well, he said yes after asking for more money.
What is it with kids today, who have no relevant experience whatsoever, asking for more than what they put on paper was their asking price?
I think it’s a male thing. Had I gone with the female candidate, I bet she would have been just like me and not willing to push the proverbial cash-filled envelope.
I really liked the female candidate. Trouble was, she *is* me at 26. Like, the Same. Damn. Person. A little loud, a little funky, a little (perhaps too) bold.
God I hope she never changes.
I’m happy with the way things have turned out. Now maybe I can do some damn work instead of interviewing people and grading writing and editing tests.
Oh, who am I kidding. I’m in for a solid year of downloading my brain into my bouncing baby boy’s noggin.
And I am totally OK with that.
Yeah. It’s like that right this second.
“I have a friend I confide in
He always says doll you got to learn not to lead with your chin
But you can’t help it
It all comes up again
And then you have your fill
And your spill reaches down as far as a flood.”— Cyndi Lauper, “Eventually”
Only slightly paraphrased to protect the lazy.
“Will somebody tell Goddess she shouldn’t be working at 7:30 at night? We shouldn’t be revolving things around her schedule.”
Maybe this wouldn’t be an issue if more than one person ever listened to a goddamned word I ever said.