Yeah, Rock Out, Whatever.
Oh my god, Anne's job is hard. It's not yet even 3:30 and my head is pulsating like there's a tribal drumbeat contest going on up there. I can't think straight. I think I might snap. One of the clients asked me how I stay so thin. Wtf? Must be my steady diet of tuna fish, chocolate, and coffee. I'm like crookshanks, the feline version.
Last night they were trying to put the entertainment system together, and I had a few errands to run. 45 minutes later I got back and he was all bitchy, I asked what the problem was and he just gave me this haughty reply, something about "y" and "x" not being "x" and "y." I asked what the specific problem that he was having was, and he snapped off a "didn't I just answer that?" His assishness doesn't really phase me anymore, because it's just so goddamn transitory. It's sort of like dealing with a petulant child; you just need to be patient and realize that they're operating from Planet Fragile Ego. I asked again. "It's impossible, there are too many cords and wires, I've been working on this for 45 minutes, I give up, it's all fucked up." I sat down behind the tv and got it working in under 30 seconds. Vic at least was proud of me. I wish that people could just be nice, for Chrissakes.
I know that I'll meet someone who it'll work out with. Fuck, maybe I won't, I really don't give a shit anymore. I'm in no hurry. I know that all guys aren't egomaniacs with dispositions prone toward jerkitude. So whatever, I'm just going to do my thing, I have nothing to prove to anyone. God though, just shut the hell up and crawl under a rock somewhere if you can't be nice to even those "closest" to you. What the fuck, you know?
Sunday when I was at Mom and Dad's, Mom said to me, "how are things going? Passable at least?" I wondered how I must have appeared to have elicited the question. "Passable," I replied, and realized just how long it's been since I felt concern in my direction. It was so touching that my eyes misted just a little. God, that's lame! 500, emily. Who gives a fuck how thin the ice is that you're about to land on. Your body is screaming for you to jump, and so you do it.
Last night they were trying to put the entertainment system together, and I had a few errands to run. 45 minutes later I got back and he was all bitchy, I asked what the problem was and he just gave me this haughty reply, something about "y" and "x" not being "x" and "y." I asked what the specific problem that he was having was, and he snapped off a "didn't I just answer that?" His assishness doesn't really phase me anymore, because it's just so goddamn transitory. It's sort of like dealing with a petulant child; you just need to be patient and realize that they're operating from Planet Fragile Ego. I asked again. "It's impossible, there are too many cords and wires, I've been working on this for 45 minutes, I give up, it's all fucked up." I sat down behind the tv and got it working in under 30 seconds. Vic at least was proud of me. I wish that people could just be nice, for Chrissakes.
I know that I'll meet someone who it'll work out with. Fuck, maybe I won't, I really don't give a shit anymore. I'm in no hurry. I know that all guys aren't egomaniacs with dispositions prone toward jerkitude. So whatever, I'm just going to do my thing, I have nothing to prove to anyone. God though, just shut the hell up and crawl under a rock somewhere if you can't be nice to even those "closest" to you. What the fuck, you know?
Sunday when I was at Mom and Dad's, Mom said to me, "how are things going? Passable at least?" I wondered how I must have appeared to have elicited the question. "Passable," I replied, and realized just how long it's been since I felt concern in my direction. It was so touching that my eyes misted just a little. God, that's lame! 500, emily. Who gives a fuck how thin the ice is that you're about to land on. Your body is screaming for you to jump, and so you do it.
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