All Good Things Must Come To An End

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That is what I told the supervisor who sobbed as I handed in my two weeks notice. I suck at quitting. I really do. Despite the fact I was looking forward to it SO MUCH, I forgot that these people like me and that they will (supposedly) miss me. I am terrible at quitting. I always feel like such a terrible heel and a BAD person.

As for the new job, as you can guess, I did get it. Despite the fact I was wearing opened toed shoes and had a swollen allergy eye. It was quite alright, since the interviewer informed me I could where whatever I wanted to work, except shorts. I informed him I do not even own a pair of shorts, probably because I have been scarred by the pale tourist legs which sprout from such articles of clothing. As for the allergy eye, he was hacking and wheezing through the interview, I relayed my sympathies and commiseration. This availed me the opportunity to the inform him that my swollen eye was because of my allergies, not because I was retarded.

However, with this new job, I will not be able to blog about people I work with. Mainly because it is a bigger company and they are smart enough to know about such things as firing me because of what I have written. Besides, apparently half of the people there already read it.

Not to worry, my blogging days are not over yet. I simply have to think of new ventures out of which I can get blogging fodder. Being a volunteer firefighter is floating at the top of the list. Shortly following are stripper, toll booth operator and sign turner on the highway.

Perhaps today's life goal lesson is: act in such a way, for the next two weeks, that will ensure them not missing me Maybe I am not as mean as I thought I was.

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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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