Oh the art of blogging.. and how much damn time it takes. Lately, and I mean since maybe July or August, things around the University have been heating up out of control, and my -boring-ass give me something to do goddamn lets blog!- job became a shit storm. Hence the lack of interesting things to say. Do you all really want to hear about the latest and greatest software and programming upgrades, or the quirks which left millions of rich-kid students unpaid for their 4 hours worked at 7 bucks an hour library jobs?
Nah, niether have I really.
I have lived in a world of on the job denial, where I just run around being horribly busy and not thinking about anything.
Now, after we have just moved into new offices and only received the CPU's for our new computers, I find that I have plenty of time on my hands. Time to go through every page of the Staples catalog and pick out the names, prices, and sku's of every product I need to order for the company. Time to make lists of to-do projects I wont have time to do once I get a friggin monitor.
Time to blog.
And yet, what is there to say really. Except that on the bus ride home Friday, I freakin saw the ex-girlfirend of my ex-boyfriend who was the cause of my ex-ness from him, who herself was actually a goddamn lesbian, than an ex-lesbo, then reformed, and then ex, stealing my man in the process, and then getting dumped on her evil she-beast ass by him a few months later. Now, what did I do? Strangely enough, not one thing. I pulled my hat down and put on my head-phones. Visions of black magic hexes, voodoo spells, the longest most psychologically damaging curse out ever said in history from one woman scorned to the other ran through my head like sugar plum fairies and barbie dolls once did in my childhood, but only for the briefest of if-I-could-go-back-in-time-and-say-something-really-cool fantasty moments. Its been almost two
years, and to my surprise in those 20 minutes we rode the bus pretending not to know each other, I was freaking over it.
Plus, that boyfriend was not as great as I thought he was at the time. He believed in marxism and used multi-syllabic terms like a 50-cent word Nazi when "cool" or "damn" would have done just as well.
Strange how these things sneak up on you. When the reality of being over something you always told yourself you were over actually becomes reality. Good thing too, especially since my mom is afraid I will never get married after viewing the wake of losers, commitment-phobes, retards, and hairy short bastards I have been dating in that ex-boyfriend's damaging "I just don't love you anymore" wake.
Now, if only men actually spoke english. Then maybe I could get something good started.
You think men speak english? I beg to differ. Here, in example, is an ACUTUAL FOR REAL CONVERSATION I had with a man:
me: "The nice thing about us is that we can spend time together and there is no strings attached. We can see each other when we want and thats it"
him: "I don't want to date you. I don't want a relationship. Your like my best friend."
me: " Sorry, what? We've only hung out for like, 3 weeks, maybe 5 times total."
him:"Why do we have to label things?"
I settle my case.