Threatened by sole Sad-Sigh reader
Let it be known that devoted Sad-Sigh commenter, “Abe,” if that’s even his real name, is a threat to humanity and the economy. While “working” diligently from “home” I received an email threat simply entitled:
I squish your head!
Body:
It’s a sad depiction of the employed and the obviously unemployed - although it’s hard to tell who is who in this scenario.
Financial Crisis!
Last night I actually kissed a piece of mail for the first time.
I got my check for my 2nd job. It was 5 days late. I kissed it because I had been freaking out all week. I don’t get paid until next Wednesday and I had $30 in my bank account and no food. There was going to be A LOT of ramen and mac and cheese going on over the weekend.
But then! The check! It showed up! I kissed it!
It was for $100. Yes, $100 will get me that excited. Sigh. All of this makes me think I should just go into the venerable practice of whoring. Because, you know, there are perks to being all cash money all the time.
Like my body?
Would you like some cheese with my whine?
So, this is going to be a boring post where basically all I’m going to do is whine. There you go, that’s my warning. Grace said it’ll make me not want to die so much, so I’ll give it a try.
I don’t know why I jumped from one job that I constantly complained about right into another. My last job I loved my work but hated the people. This job the people are nice but the work isn’t quite matched with my skillset or interest, which I should’ve known but I was just determined to get a new job. I think I want out of the non-profit arts, start-up mentality world. I think I need a “get well” job even though I’m not in rehab or anything. Maybe working at a cute little bookstore in the Castro where I can’t take any work home with me, and have time to really focus on my social life (priorities, bitch!) and some creative projects on the side.
I was home in San Jose last weekend and out at this gay club called Splash and I realized San Jose gays are weird! But then I started thinking what if I just stayed in San Jose, and grew into one of them; shaved my head, got a tattoo on my neck and still plucked my eyebrows. Maybe I would fit in? They seemed so happy…
Nah, I’m much more of the trashed out, drugged up, screaming queen San Francisco type. Or maybe I should move to the desert like I’ve been feeling so compelled to do for some reason (I wonder what desert gays are like?!)
All I know is I need more excitement in my life. While I was at Splash dancing with some guy that I didn’t even like who left HIS SWEAT STAINS ON MY SHIRT, my best friend was texting me about her threesome with 2 Aussie guys in Las Vegas. Bitch.
Hmm, my wanting-to-die meter went down from like an 8 to a 7. Maybe you’re right about this sad.sigh posting thing, Grace.;) Sorry guys, you might just be hearing more from me in the next few days…
When it rains, it pours
Without identifying what I do, where I work, and who I am, in the past week the following things happened to me in no particular order:
1) I was not paid. This was not the first time I was late getting paid. It will certainly not be the last. I drove 25 minutes to the company’s bank to cash my check as I did not want to risk it bouncing.
2) My office was evicted. I now work from home. It was 88 degrees today. I have no A/C at home.
3) I had a movie moment when upon dropping off my boss, she opened the passenger door, and a biker slammed into it. Nobody was hurt, the biker scolded my boss and rode off. My door, on the other hand, did not fair as well. Brought it to the shop today and the window made a bad noise rolling up and down, the door didn’t shut all the way, and the window tint was scraped. Upon loosening the inner panel, a chunk of foam fell out. Closer inspection showed the door hinge had also snapped. I don’t want to find out how much it will cost. My poor car still smells like new (or manure, depending on who you are); these are its first war wounds.
So, sorry Dennis. While you were out drinking with those who lost their jobs, I was without internet helping pack up my office, unable to comment on your posts. You passive-aggressive, smooth, flat surfaced SOB.
Jerks.
To whom it may concern:
I find it disconcerting that I take the time and energy, after a severe amount of writer’s block, and a rare lack of personal time caused by excessive dating, that the people who begged me to write 4 posts in one day, who shall remain nameless, do not care to comment on said posts. I view this as a slight against my character, and a violation of my rights as a blogger. Since it is late, and I am tired, please visit here for the dressing down that you so truly deserve.
My apologies to my roommate for recycling some material.
You’re all douches.
Sincerely,
DT