Thanks For Telling Me, Even Though I Didn't Ask

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My boss walks into my office, first words out of her mouth:

"I don't like your hair."

I respond with:

"Thanks, I do."

Now, I don't really like my hair, but I wasn't about to admit this to someone who so loudly and blatently announced this without me asking. (I just got it done and it is a LITTLE dark. As in, I am channeling my American Indian roots that are nonexistant.)

She finishes with:

"True friends never lie."

I respond:

"Who said you were my friend?"

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This odd narrative is my life. I ended up in Pittsburgh, of all places--from the beach. I have no hobbies, other than cooking excessively and eating microwave popcorn. I enjoy shopping, the Food network, hiding the remote so the Food network cannot be turned off, find ethnic food stores and restaurants and reading voraciously. My life is decidedly pedestrian.

I worked in the car business where I was required to be ruthless and soul-less wench, which is when I started this project. Since then, I've kept it up because secretly, I've always wanted to join the military. Every male in my mother's family has joined and I quietly entertain thoughts of joining. I haven't yet and don't know if I ever will, but sending the troops cookies keeps me sane. it makes me think I still have a shred of human kindness left in my withering soul. it's a small way for me to salute the men and women who are brave enough to fight for freedom. And makes me feel like I'm contributing toward troop morale--even if I'm not. So if you want to help, send me addresses of troops you know stationed overseas. you may also contribute toward the cost of chocolate chips, but don't feel obligated, that link is here only by request.

the past


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