I Can Be A Very Morbid Person

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One of the flighty tarts from a different part of the dealership has taken a certain liking to one of my managers. She comes and visits often. She speaks in a nasal twang. She has large slightly permed blonde hair with an abundance of roots. She has overly tanned skin. She rims her dark eyeliner fiercely around her eyes. In short--she's Barbie Gone To Seed.

The only thing I cannot get over is her fingernails. Well, they aren't really hers persay. They were the property of the nearest Chinese nail salon until 4:00 p.m. this past Thursday. At that time, she waltzed in, plunked her much admired hiney down and paid a pretty sum to have perfectly shaped acrylic ovals attached to the tips of her fingers and painted a garish shade of coral/red/pink that doesn't really match anything.

They're so awful. They fascinate me! All I can think is how her hand looks precisely like that of the token slut who was incinerated in the climax of a poorly made action movie. And all that was left to identify her was the tanned and seared hand. With the charred little ovals--still intact.

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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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