06/02/00 (cont'd)
I have tried very hard not to eat today. Mostly because I'm turning into a big fat ass, but also because I'm tired of feeling so very large (gastrointestinal distress due to my disgusting eating habits--I love fresh salsa but it doesn't love me) and downright miserable. You know how you sometimes stuff yourself to the point of wanting to puke because you literally feel like your guts are going to just explode? I do that every time I sit down to eat, it seems. So this morning I was a very good little piggy and didn't eat any donettes or Ding Dongs or bagels or chips or anything. And by the time lunch hit I was so damned ravenous I couldn't take it any more. And I really had planned to just go home and eat my can of tuna (I'm going to turn into a fucking cat any day now, I swear) and leave it at that, but noooo, I only made it as far as Mr. Goodcents. Where I had an Italian Combo. On white. But I got it without cheese and no olive oil. That has to count for something, right? It doesn't help that I'm wearing possibly the most unflattering pants I own. They're just cut so damn strange. The waist is like, 24 inches (mine is 28 so you know that can't be comfortable) and the hips and ass are HUGE and they don't match up with the legs right, so the ass kind of puffs out in back. REAL FUCKING ATTRACTIVE. It's like they were sewn by blind women in Malaysia or something. But enough about my lard-ass-ity...
I am really fucking tired. I just kind of want to go home and go to sleep. Crazy Paige called me RIGHT as I was getting up to go to lunch--she was totally all whimpery like meaning that her jackass boyfriend probably just yelled at her recently and now she's feeling vulnerable. WTFE. And I couldn't even contain my irritation. Usually I can make it sound like I give a damn (even if I really don't) when she calls, but now I'm just disgusted. Okay, she and the idiot broke up what, seven, eight months ago? She got fired from her job eight months ago, so they've actually been split up closer to nine months now. TIME TO MOVE ON, DEAR. Jesus! She's been holed up in that cabin in Iowa with no job, no income, just the friend who owns the cabin who is supporting her sorry ass, and she's been doing this for six months now because she is hell-bent on not moving back to KC because "I will go fucking nuts there." Yeah, like Butt Fuck Iowa is doing a world of good for your mental state. Anyway, I wasn't even able to attempt to mask my annoyance at her fucking calling me YET AGAIN after such a joyous reprieve from her crybaby phone calls (it's been what, a month?). And she had the balls to ask me, in a rather pissy tone, "what's wrong with you?" Uh, try that you never bother to ask how things are going in MY life when you call, and that usually when you do call, you have a list of things you want me to do for you or look up for you or mail for you. How about that I'm going to be your bitch, the least you can do is put out? (Eeewww, icky, no way man--she's sooooo not my type...but you get my point, right?) So I am not calling her back and if she calls me again and I am stupid enough to answer the phone, I will tell her to stop calling because she doesn't want a friend, she wants a babysitter, and I hung up my apron on that job years ago.
I'm just so, soooo tired. And from what I've read lately, I'm not the only one. Must be the time of year. We ALL need a vacation.
Now I'm going to get really bitchy and demand that SOMEBODY POST ON MY FUCKING MESSAGE BOARD, DAMMIT, because if it's just going to be me and the lovely Miss T, I could have saved myself the trouble of setting it up (that whole 5 minutes of my precious work day) and just used hers.
I want a donette.
C is supposed to meet me at my place after work and we are heading to the party from there, so I won't have time to shower and re-create myself. Dammit. Morning is just so not a good time for me to focus on anything, let alone my face, so by 5:00 it's usually pretty obvious that I was half asleep when I did my hair and put on my face and dressed (?) myself. Today, since it rained last night and I knew it would be humid, I wore my hair curly rather than fighting it with a blow dryer for 30 minutes and then having it fuzzball immediately as I walked out the front door. Oh, the curse of naturally curly hair. It looks real good from the front, but if you're taller than I (and who isn't?) you can see that the top of my head is straight. And the back of my head is mostly straight, as well. And what IS curly doesn't lay in any kind of mannerly fashion, so I just kind of have this fucked up mess on my head. Fascinating. Some day I'm going to shave myself bald and buy many wigs and become Wig Woman...yeah...I will live in the WigWam...and I will fight crime...and save kittens...
I'm not on drugs, but I think maybe I should be...
I just called Megan because I hadn't heard from her in a while and was wondering if she was in the office or what was going on (I'm fucking nosy, okay?) and she had that pissy tone, "I've been working." Well, excuse me, Mary Sunshine, but you don't work. You usually go in around 9, leave around 3 and fuck around in between. She really only works a couple of days a month to play catch-up on all the shit she has neglected up to that point. And the lives of children are in her hands. Pray for them.
Today is one of those days when I have one nerve left and the whole world is just tap dancing on it. Doing the time step and everything.
And Hotmail isn't sending my damn outgoing messages. What the fuck is up with that?
Okay...enough ranting and raving...I must go find candy and make peace with myself.
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