Couple things. First, it’s THE CITY SPARKLE / VIRGLE KENT BIRTHDAY WEEK! Friday there are major celebrations planned. I’m making room in my stomach now for alcohol and vomit. Cause I think there will be both.
So, remember the whole stopping posting stuff of a few weeks back? Rough waters in all facets of life continue. Work is like, well, a knife throwing contest. Everyone is trying to save their jobs in this horrifying housing bubble. I showed up in one of our divisions last week and holy fucking hell, it was so cold in there it was like it was snowing in that damn place. ONE person talked to me. ONE. My boss called and I walked out into the parking lot to tell him something I heard, and he said, “How is it there?” I said, “Except for the one person asking about Speedracer, um, no one is speaking to me.” He laughed and said, “Fuck ’em.” Huh. Then I went to another division to have my hard drive rebuilt, and when I took the IT person out to lunch, everyone was texting her asking who “that lady was.” You know, for an instant, I said, “Dude. What lady?” She said, “YOU!” I’m many things, but I am NO LADY.
Please oh please let this awful market be over with so we can hire people who like my department again. Please!
Anyway, toss a few more things in that pile of shit above, and I swear to god, I need someone to roll me a joint and get me so stoned that I don’t know what fucking day it is. Anyone? Please??? I’ll be your best friend!
So, I did something the other night I have not done…well, ever. I had to call in the big guns to help me sort something out.
Velvet: Hi, Dad, can I talk to Mom?
Dad: Uh, yeah. Hold on.
Click! (So typical in a house overrun with electronics -they are now confused by cordless phones but damn if they don’t have the DVD player running errands for them.)
Mom: Wait, she’s here she’s here.
Velvet: Damn. I was like ‘these motherfuckers hung up on me.’ (Yes, I said motherfuckers. Do you think the foul mouth I have here doesn’t carry over into the rest of my life? I don’t censor nothing for no one. And my mom laughed anyway.)
Mom: What’s up?
Velvet: I’m going to ask you something I’ve never asked you before, so brace yourself…
And there you go. Big Guns. It’s funny that I have this blog, and rarely do my parents hop on here. Even my brother stays away, which is pretty good for the most part. So that’s why a post or two is missing. I really don’t tell my parents things unless I need their honest, expert, judgmental but rarely wrong opinion. Usually they just worry, and there’s no need for that unnecessarily.
Sometimes it sucks to have to call home because you need something that you can’t get elsewhere. There’s something about the Mommy-stamp of approval, or the Mommy-rejection letter that helps me sort it out. I’m still brooding. But I will say this, we’re lucky that there’s a ban on owning a gun in D.C. Because this would be the week I would have bought one. And I would have emptied the chamber. Possibly twice. Into the same person.