I deserve a Major Award. I have to be the Saddest Fuck Ever the past few days. While I really would just like to have Cher slap me silly, saying “Snap out of it!” we all know that it is not that easy to pull oneself out of The Meh. However, I did find this “graffiti” at work earlier this week, and it reminded me that I can be fragile from time to time as long as I find a way to move past it with a little help from my friends, Zoloft and Xanax. Better living through chemistry, pseudoscientific New Age theories, and weekend clear-headed reflection and refocus work for me.
I am carrying my towel. Today marks my 42nd year on Earth. No, I have not discovered the meaning of Life, the Universe, and Everything, but it is still early in the day. Whatever will I do with myself in the coming year?
- Lose 60-80 pounds in the next six months.
- Maintain that weight loss for another six months.
- De-clutter the dining room table and keep it free and clear.
- Choose my own adventures.
- Take a photography class.
- Learn to appreciate black coffee.
- Visit a California winery.
- Get another tattoo.
- Start an herb garden.
- Get a facial.
- Digitize our photographs.
- Play tennis again.
- Make my own wine.
- Have my fortune told by a real Gypsy.
- Go home for an extended period of time.
- Hang the wind chimes.
- Reduce (and possibly pay off) the credit card debt.
- Read 50 books.
- Cook and eat more meals at home.
- Write/journal every day.
- Volunteer my time for a good cause.
- Go on a non-work trip to somewhere I have never been.
- Learn to handle disappointment better.
- Floss more.
- Go blonde.
- Reveal myself on this blog.
- Attend a parade.
- Visit The Mob Museum.
- Visit The Neon Museum.
- Drink 64-100 ounces of water every day.
- Write one letter a week by hand.
- Try Zumba.
- Tell people I appreciate them. (See #31.)
- Buy and wear a little black dress to a social event.
- Make our house or another one of our own a home.
- Practice mindfulness as a means to stress and anxiety reduction.
- Find a way to be happier at work.
- Take a hike.
- Go to at least one event at The Smith Center.
- Complete five or more unfinished crafts/projects.
- Be _____ .
- Finish strong.
Earlier this week, I joined a Biggest Loser Competition at work. I was completely psyched about it until it was renamed The Chub Club Contest on Facebook later the same day. For whatever reason, chubby is a word I have cringed at for as long as I can remember. How the hell is that supposed to motivate me? Clearly, I have issues with my belly. This was really compounded tonight when we went to have an early birthday celebration at Rhythm Kitchen. I am now in a certified Southern fried food coma. The prognosis is not good. You will know I have a real problem when I started talking via my belly button.
Also, the office scale is a big, fat liar.
People learn how to treat you based on what you accept from them. I witnessed this first hand tonight at my 20-something Asian friend’s birthday dinner at a local Japanese restaurant. Two of the four guests were C & C, friends of D’s whom I met for the first time; the other two were V and me (neither of us knew C & C). It took everything I had not to bitch-slap C & C by the time that the bill arrived. The one C he has a crush on (because that is always the case) informed all of us she was leaving before the waitress brought the final bill. She stood up from her chair and begrudgingly handed him a 20 dollar bill before leaving. Her portion of the bill was at least 40 dollars. Once the bill arrived, V and I squared away our portions while the remaining C complained that she was “not putting in more than 35 dollars.” Never mind that she drank at least 30 dollars worth of vodka by herself. I bit my tongue … hard. I am pretty sure V was thinking the same thing as I was because she kicked me under the table, as if to warn me not to ruin D’s birthday dinner. I had already added about 10 dollars more than I needed to put in as I am often reminded of what it was like to be a waitress. There was some mumbling and grumbling before D just sighed and took out more money from his own pocket to cover the remainder of the bill that C & C obviously were not going to do in the first place. I was mortified and ready to throw down more cash myself if needed. It took everything I had to not yell out across the table to D, ”You can’t always be nice. People are always taking advantage of you. Grow a pair, bro, and set some fucking boundaries.” Instead, I came home and wrote this passive-aggressive post. I texted V later and joked that we needed to give D a crash course in assertiveness. Her response was something of the “I know this much is true” variety. Unfortunately, this is a lesson D is going to have to learn all on his own.
Fever, aches, and chills
Go away for I am not
In the influenza mood.
The door slammed shut before she had a chance to say “Have a nice day.” Nine hours later, he was killed by an elderly woman driving the wrong way on the freeway on his way home. ”Instantaneous. He did not suffer at all.” But what about those he left behind?