Thursday, January 27, 2005

Another Day...Another Holler

I’ve decided that I don’t give a shit. Although I do. But for now I’m going to indulge my despondent, rebellious, mad-at-this-unfair-lopsided-world perspective. I’m going to not only indulge, dammit. I’m going to swim, float, submerge and drink in the cynicism.

So, I see that it’s only been a month since my last post. I’d suspected longer. Maybe I’ll keep this one up, eh? Eh? (I think I was Canadian in another life…oh, that’ right: I don’t believe in past lives…so I guess that theory is out the door.)

Was that funny? You know people are always laughing around me. I’m funniest when I try not to be.

Next step is to be laughing with them. That’s the key, the goal. Maybe that should be my New Year’s resolution. I don’t make those anymore. Why set myself up for failure? Instead I make grand goals and rejoice in the little accomplishments made along the way.

Don’t I sound wise? I am. This is true.

I’ve come across an independent blog- an anomaly I will now name “Indeh-blogs.”

The Black Cloud.org….oooohhhh, sounds so scary and ominous, omnimous, omnimal, optimal…whatever. Hee, hee. He makes me laugh.

At him, of course. No, dammit. I lie. I fib. (“You're fibbing, fibbing, fibbing!” circa a "DuckTales" episode featuring a golden harp. Of course, you have no idea what I’m talking about, but if you do, I love you. I do. And, very much in the LA way of loving you. No, scratch that. In a much more innocent version of the LA way of loving you. Just know that you are loved. A la Ryan Seacrest)

So, anyway, I lie. I jealously laugh with this writer of “The Black Cloud” of doom.

Anywho, have I mentioned my ho-tosity? My ho-itude? Today, I hate being a temp. I don’t like the people or the duties or the pay. Today. Yesterday they were fine. But, grrrr…people! Vent, vent, grrrrr….aaahhh, grind teeth, roll eyes and storm out.

No, I don’t feel better. I want to go home to my yacht and sail the high seas and sip eggnog out of a wine glass while leaning up against someone I love (and not in the dirty LA way).


I want to go home. I want a home. Gah…I’m leaving

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