I am in a horrible, awful, no-good, very bad mood today.
Things started to go south yesterday – against my better judgment, I met up for drinks with members of my training team after work, thinking that This Will Be The Time That I Fit In. But it wasn’t, despite my best efforts to stay engaged in conversations that quickly veered into engineereese. After a good hour of trying to make it work, I finally gave up and sipped my beer in the corner, waiting for a good opportunity to leave gracefully (ha!). And so I called Jamie on the way home so I could cry about how no one likes me and I have no friends and I guess I’ll go eat worms. Two beers make me a little dramatic.
And this morning I got up, and WOE IS ME! I am so TIRED! And my house is a WRECK! And my hair is STUPID! And I have a spot on my CHIN! And all my shoes are DUMB! And I have NOTHING TO WEAR! And the Rational Me sits on one shoulder and says, “GROW UP. You just need to do laundry. Also, your coworkers are kind of assholes.” And the Emotional Me on the other shoulder says, “THIS REQUIRES A SICK DAY! AND JOHN HUGES MOVIES! AND WINE!”.
But if I stayed home, with the Molly Ringwald and the pajamas and the chips and the wine, I wouldn’t do laundry or clean my house anyway. And tomorrow I’d get up, groggy and slightly dehydrated, with a dirty kitchen and the same clothes and the same hair (did I mention that I cut it off? Or rather, the dumb stylist cut TOO MUCH off? So now I am somewhere between dooce and Mia Farrow in Rosemary’s Baby, except without the cheekbones? And I am not real jazzed about the nakedness of my neck and head?), and the same clueless coworkers. So I am here, at work, sucking it up.
But I just want to put it out there that I am HERE! And I should get CREDIT! And YES, I realize how stupid this all is, and also that this post contains EXCESSIVE CAPITALIZATION!
3 comments:
First of all, for what it's worth, I'M glad you're around.
Second, "John Huges" movies sounds like a very different kind of film.
Congrats on being there - that's half the battle. That, and prying oneself off of the couch and away from the bottle. Trust me. I speak from experience.
I'm still in my pajamas and it's 3 p.m.
I want to see your hair and I don't hate you.
Post a Comment