So.. I�m sitting here, packing up all my crap for the interminable trip back to my home in Los Angeles (set to begin tomrrow in the afternoon), and what do I do? I kneel on my fucking sunglasses.
Like there aren�t enough issues involved with flying back to California that what I really need to do right now is crush the shit out of my sunglasses until they look like a fucking prop for Shakes the Clown. Great. I look like Max Headroom with my fucking lopsided sunglasses, which is exactly the look I�m trying to effect at this point in my life. Because getting a date has been so damn easy, that I really needed to add that particular dimension of Dork to my persona in order to make it more of a challenge.
Other things that I may need to make more of a challenge include sleeping, digesting, breathing, and existing. My New Year�s resolution is to come up with a number of obstacles to put in the way of all these things. I believe kneeling on my damn sunglasses is an impressive way to start off, don�t you?
Actually, these are not my New Year�s resolutions (I apologize for fooling you). May Day and I have actually concocted a series of such personal goals that are brimming with nobility and self-betterment (okay, so one of our resolutions may be something like �Get Laid�, but I think we�ve fucking earned it at this point). Unfortunately, these are not my only resolutions this year.
Would that my only goal for 2004 was to get nailed like a 2X4 by some gorgeous hunka hunka burnin� something-or-other, but it seems that I have been given an assignment by Sophie to come up with three (yes, I said motherfucking three -- like it�s not hard enough anyway) resolutions for work -- not life, just fucking work -- that I�m supposed to report on Monday.
Like, what am I supposed to say? �Um, I resolve not to put up with asinine assignments that are demeaning, pointless, and ultimately unproductive, particularly given the fact that I�m still only a fucking temp�? Methinks this would not go over terribly well. At the moment, what I�m seriously considering (and by �seriously�, please interpret that to mean �honestly and no bullshit, for real this time�) is prompting New Girl (aka Sam) to talk first, and then going, �Shit, that�s exactly what I said!�
I mean, resolutions for work? Seriously? How about �I resolve to kick Anna square in the pelvic bone until she admits what a hateful tart she is, how much she sucks dirty, stinky asshole, and how she really thinks she ought to stop making my life such a fucking chore before I quit altogether and let her stumble about blindly, trying to figure out what the fuck she�s supposed to be doing without my perpetual assistance�? Or maybe, �I resolve keep doing what I�ve been doing, and hope that the fucking east coast office figures out where the damn ball is, how to get on it, and what they need to do in order to NOT fuck every little thing up so I have to fix it. Like usual.�
I�m supposed to come up with three resolutions, people. THREE! What the hell do I know about three resolutions? Life is hard, folks, life is really, really hard. Anyway, that�s where things stand. Tomorrow, I will get on a plane and head back toward Life As I Know It
Maybe tomorrow I will be better equipped to delineate where my life -- personally and �professionally� -- is going. Or maybe not.
Someone Got Here By Searching For: gael garcia bernal stupid oscar speech And: I�ve got an eating disorder I�m Watching: I ain�t watching jachkshit tonight. I packed, and now I�m going to bed! I�m Eating: A lot of shit. Don�t hassle me, I�m on vacation, damn it!