The past few days I have been trying to think of anything even remotely funny to write about. I’ve got nothing though, which is really irritating, because it means that my life is, in actuality, really fucking boring, almost ALL of the time.
Maybe it’s just been an un-funny week. I mean, back to work – BLAH! Every day I stumble on new reasons to think the majority of the people I work with are idiots and the most corrupt people on the planet and I can’t even write about it here in detail, because I still work there. The only upside to having stupidity forced down my throat is that I get to silently congratulate myself on being of at least average intelligence. Someone make me a medal, right? Except that then one of them tries to con me into doing something fraudulent, you know, because why wouldn’t your asshole colleagues try to trick you into doing something illegal/fire-able? Doesn’t that happen everywhere? No? Just me again??
I think what pissed me off the absolute most was that it was so blatantly fraudulent that only a complete moron would have fallen for it, and yet they just kept insisting that I sign off on it as if it was no big deal. Does this mean everyone in the office thinks I’m the stupid one? REALLY?? (*Gasps in horror.)
Well, in other news, an ex who touched base with me before the holidays reappeared this week. There was nothing to be excited about there. He kept sending me pictures of himself looking totally miserable, and quite frankly, totally like Yertle the Turtle, which makes me wonder what I ever saw in him in the first place. He doesn’t smile. Ever. And yet, he thinks I am just so wildly attracted to him that he’ll be able to talk his way back in. Why?? How do you nicely tell someone who treated you like garbage for many years that you aren’t now and won’t ever be interested again?
How about: “Hey, since you are such an awful human being, you really should have locked someone down before you started looking really weird. No woman’s going to put up with your array of bullshit and crazy now that you resemble a wrinkly, jowly, bug-eyed turtle.” See what I am saying? It just sounds mean no matter how I try to spell it out.
But, please don’t waste time working up tears for a man who strung me along (and tried to beat down my Vivienne-warrior spirit) for a solid 6 to 7 years. It’s only been two weeks since he retorted at me, “when did you become such a feminist!?” as if that’s the worst thing a woman could be called. In fact, when I finally cut the cord with him 3-4 years ago now, he said to me, “fine! You’re not that pretty anyway!” To which my feminist ass had the nerve to respond, “well, you won’t need to see this ‘not-that-pretty’ ever again. You’re welcome.”
Other than that, the cats have been as kitten-y as ever. This week one of them (Snugs) managed to drag a poopball a number of feet from the litter box. It was sitting in the middle of the walkway. The three of us stood there assessing the situation.
Snugs: I, uh, I see what the issue is here. I got this.
He saunters over to the litter box and collects some loose litter from the floor, and starts piling it up around the poopball in a feeble attempt at disguising it.
Snugs: Better? It won’t be a problem now. You won’t even notice it.
Me: Are you serious?? You’re just going to leave it there in the middle of the floor? Don’t take this the wrong way, but you’re, uhh, missing the mark by quite a bit, dearest one.
And, well, that’s been my week. Anyone else with poopie colleagues, exes, or floors?