Funny
Afterthought:
Isn't it funny how I've got the most normal bf that I've ever had (this is an incredible statement knowing my history) and everything else is falling high on 'abnormal.' I'm probably the only one who finds this funny.
p.s. the only reason why I'm posting is because I'm actually home which I haven't been in ages. the only time the laptop calls to me. aside from the fact that I have nothing better to do than eat potato chips and watch american 1d0l when I'm here.
I also wanted to mention, decorating is a woman's job. A man should just stay far away when a woman has design ideas...even if it's his house. (hehe?)
I recently left my job. The rules of disengagement for this accord was rather sticky but it happened and I don't regret it.
It's odd, the entire time I was waking up to go to work, I felt as if each morning were a small encroaching nightmare and mostly what I wanted to do was snuggle closer into my sheets, deeper into my pillow, tighter into the bed but just days into my newfound freedom unemployed, I'm annoyed about not waking up to go to a job I don't particularly enjoy.
I learned the most from this last post in that I no longer value the dollar more than I do the experience. If waking up to go into a place where you don't feel secure about the people you're with, the work you're doing occurs without hope or relief, well, money don't mean a thing.
Right now, right here, I'm more concerned about the right fit than anything else. I'm annoyed with interviews, putting on that thousand watt smile, pulling out the crisp coporate wardrobe, drudging through the blasted cold to get to an office when I am directionally challenged, reporting my progress to the bf afterward, dealing with agents..I'm annoyed by the whole process! But it's gotta be done. It's like shopping for the perfect friggin pair of damn sexy hot jeans. It's friggin ANNOYING.
My dear boyfriend Gino has been nothing but a friggin sweetheart. Even surprising me on Valentines with dinner, flowers, and a card of all things. (The card is what I ended up treasuring the most, not for what it was, but for what it SAID.) Gino is about as clueless as it comes with regards to women so I was quite shocked that he pulled out some romanticism on the V. He had admitted himself that he falls on the extreme side of emotional defunct when it comes to 'men who need to express.' I concur. He needs help on that side of things, some Dr.Ph1l enlightenment, but stoic love is the bane of corean patriarchy so I guess I tolerate it easier.
He's been so supportive and that's shown me more love than I could be happy with.
Pray for me, that I GET A NORMAL JOB, A NORMAL BOSS for a NORMAL COMPANY with GREAT PAY (I couldn't write normal pay, forgive me.) Pray people, pray.
Damn, a girl needs another break. Man!
so long
Say, repose or what.
The only thing that has really changed since my last post is the fact that I'm in a better salary bracket, to pay my pesky student loans off my dear rabbit.
Mr. wolf just don't freakin let up. Puck.
I did go to the dominican, and that was a nice getaway. But, the water was littered with hurricane debris. Not to complain or anything.
Oh, maybe I didn't mention that I changed jobs. Same industry, new company, new boss. I work for a tyrant but it ain't that bad when I can be just as bad a tyrantress. The sympathetic tolerance comes easier.
The boyfriend remains the same and he's just as good as white bread ever.
For the birthday, he bought me an entire purse. I offered to pay for the straps but he obliged. This here is a joke between us.
I can't wait till summer rolls around.
First time a boy gave me a piece of jewelry I wept. It was unexpected and I remember how it unfolded. It was my first unbridled love, it was in a movie theatre seconds before the show started. He pulled it out of his pocket and then a mack truck hit me. I bust into a flurry of tears and couldn't understand exactly why. I was virginally touched.
I lost that delicate bracelet at work on the floor doing retail that same summer.
All the times after, I've accepted pieces of jewelry with simple uncomplicated glee or graciousness.
Gino got back. In all that time pundering work overseas, traveling and unraveling the asian mecca of consumerism, he bought one thing. A piece of jewelry.
I wear very little jewelry. The few things that adorn me on a every day basis are simple sentimental trinkets. Things that I hope stay with me a lifetime.
I guess all that to say, I got another bracelet. Looking at the bracelet, I hate to say, I favour the thought more than I do the actual materialized thought. I think he really toiled over it. It must have been sheer and grueling moments of hell trying to find something to bring back for me. Absolute hell spending pre-meditated moments participating in that vomit pastime Gino calls shopping. Anyways, a heart fell out and I wondered if it had any metaphorical significance, being the literary fiend that I am. I left the heart at his house in his old english ash tray where he keeps his keys.
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I wrote the above and never published it. Anyways, things have been quite busy. Gino and I have been outed at work. Since then, Gino's taken the liberty to have me escort him to his business functions. You'd think it's fun dining out, downing some good wine and soaking in the ambience of fine conservatism for free, but no, it's pure work. Fist time out I made dinner conversation by talking about a girl I used to work with who went to jail for drug solicitation and how she carried around a card identifying her as a convicted felon. I don't know, I don't think that story flied when my dinner compatriots preferred to talk about light work politics. Slight torture when I'd rather swallow a few merlots, slip off my heels and laugh hysterically about the innocuous life, mistakes and mod culture.
So I've met the parents, I've pounded out some damn good italian meals that might give any granny from Italy a run for her tomatoes, and I've stayed committed. Our relationsip has really leveled off and we're in a real comfortable zone. I was sick with the flu this past week and Gino was more than darling, insisting I stay at his place so he could take care of me. Honey, I'm good.
Work is killing me but we're due for vacation soon so I know I can make it. Unfortunately Mexico's out.
The Gym
I joined the gym.
We're autumn now and I'm looking at my winter slacks hanging obediently in the closet thinking holy hell-no I ain't fitting into them pants this year. My ass is going to rip through them seams. My crotch is going to be enlightened with them perma-wedges. My thighs are going to choke.
So I'm looking at the schedule of classes after a late day of work.
The hell is accent souplesse?
I drag my mat to the front and wait for the over tt (toned & tanned) gay to enagage us into fitness focus. Not a single guy showed up for the class. All we did was stretch. Point this and stretch and flex that. I cramped by the time we rolled onto our sides to do leg lifts. Some unidentified part of my hip started screwing around with charlie and his horse, and then my toes joined in the fun. Like a retard in nylon, I writhed around on the floor like a worm in heat trying not to be noticed while the makeup geriatrics flowed from one perfect form to the other.
After class some grandma told me to eat half a banana every morning – I need pottasium.
The gay instructor asked me if I was o.k. And told me I need to continue. That's code for 'you're out of shape girlfriend.'
The gay accountant manager in my company freaked out over higher gas prices this morning because c'mon 'gays have designer sunglasses and clothes to buy.' Apparently fuel increases should be waived for the aforementioned gents. I nearly bust out my coffee when I heard him shrieking from his office.
Anyways, I hit the treadmill and aimed for 96 calories burned. Yeah I made it in 12 minutes. O.k.,so I wanted to rush home to catch that dance off show with O'Hurley and that soap opera chick– missed it. Damn central time. Yeah, I'm pretty much a far cry from those teenage hot pink spandex days (with stirrups) when waiting for the toaster to pop meant an opportunity to squeeze in a few reps of leg squats against the counter.
Tomorrow is cardio militaire. God I'm going to die if push ups are involved. Hue-ah!!
Why can't they have, like, le tai -boxing or something normal-ish.
