-Face it, interest in this blog has dropped since I moved from Las Vegas. Maybe I chose the wrong name or perhaps people just aren't that interested in Louisville. Why should blog readers be any different than the rest of the world?
-I just don't have any ambition. I don't know what I want to do. All I really want is to be able to make enough money to live, and now that doesn't even seem possible. On Wednesday I interviewed for a job very much like the one I had in Vegas. It would have paid me more than I make at the party store and I would have had weekends off. It seemed to be going well until I asked the guy which two Home Depots I'd be assigned to. The first one was about two miles from where I live. Fine. The second one? It was in Frankfort, our state capital and about fifty miles from Louisville.
YOU HAVE GOT TO BE FUCKING KIDDING ME. Drive to Frankfort every other day for a god damn monkey job? Isn't the low pay and unchallenging work enough soul-emptying degradation? Now I have to commute for the priviledge? Someone just needs to find out the exact amount I need to BARELY scrape by every month, and pay me that plus a dollar to wander around town wearing a satin fez and a giant diaper. If my work life is going to suck, it might as well suck with gusto.
-Hezbollah or Israel? I'm pulling for the guys who don't want us dead. God, I'm selfish.
-I haven't really tried to date since I moved back. Over a month ago I arranged a date over the internets but the night before the main event she called me on the phone and bored my soul away with the prattle of the damned. I cancelled the date after hearing about everyone she's ever met, every place she's ever been and every thought she's ever had since the beginning of time. Sweet merciful heyzeus she wouldn't shut her hush-puppy-hole. She actually asked me "Why aren't you saying anything?"
"I don't know, maybe I'm shy, OR MAYBE YOU DOMINATE THE CONVERSATION LIKE TERI HATCHER DOMINATES THE WRINKLE CREAM ON THE SET OF DESPERATE HOUSEWIVES."
Seriously, I may never date again. Right now, I cannot subject myself to the brutal personal interrogation and crushing disappointment. Dating in Vegas was like a glancing blow to the nutsack: You don't know how bad it hurts until you try to walk away.
See you on Monday or Tuesday
-I just don't have any ambition. I don't know what I want to do. All I really want is to be able to make enough money to live, and now that doesn't even seem possible. On Wednesday I interviewed for a job very much like the one I had in Vegas. It would have paid me more than I make at the party store and I would have had weekends off. It seemed to be going well until I asked the guy which two Home Depots I'd be assigned to. The first one was about two miles from where I live. Fine. The second one? It was in Frankfort, our state capital and about fifty miles from Louisville.
YOU HAVE GOT TO BE FUCKING KIDDING ME. Drive to Frankfort every other day for a god damn monkey job? Isn't the low pay and unchallenging work enough soul-emptying degradation? Now I have to commute for the priviledge? Someone just needs to find out the exact amount I need to BARELY scrape by every month, and pay me that plus a dollar to wander around town wearing a satin fez and a giant diaper. If my work life is going to suck, it might as well suck with gusto.
-Hezbollah or Israel? I'm pulling for the guys who don't want us dead. God, I'm selfish.
-I haven't really tried to date since I moved back. Over a month ago I arranged a date over the internets but the night before the main event she called me on the phone and bored my soul away with the prattle of the damned. I cancelled the date after hearing about everyone she's ever met, every place she's ever been and every thought she's ever had since the beginning of time. Sweet merciful heyzeus she wouldn't shut her hush-puppy-hole. She actually asked me "Why aren't you saying anything?"
"I don't know, maybe I'm shy, OR MAYBE YOU DOMINATE THE CONVERSATION LIKE TERI HATCHER DOMINATES THE WRINKLE CREAM ON THE SET OF DESPERATE HOUSEWIVES."
Seriously, I may never date again. Right now, I cannot subject myself to the brutal personal interrogation and crushing disappointment. Dating in Vegas was like a glancing blow to the nutsack: You don't know how bad it hurts until you try to walk away.
See you on Monday or Tuesday
27 Comments:
Aw, baby.
Here, let me pour you a drink and pat you gently on the head and say "there, there, little warrior."
todd! You need a boob scotch. STAT
Geez, I talk too much. There goes any hope I had of dating Todd. *sobs*
Don't you pay attention to anything, Anthony?
Aw, Todd. Sorry about the nutsack. Here are some job ideas:
1. Sell your sperm, I'm sure you jacking off, might as well get paid for it.
2. Rent-A-Cop. You'll get paid for being a dick, not saying you're a dick, but it might help get some aggression out.
3. Air Traffic Controller. If you pass the test they pay for you to go to Air Traffic school and your starting pay is like $75,000/year. It's very Billy Bob Thorton.
There's always prostitution. Not only do you get laid, but they PAY you.
Sure you may have to bone crusty, depends wearing, old witches, and maybe some guys. But it's a living right?
My company talked about having me report to Boston every morning, an hour and a half from my house, without traffic! And no, my drive time wouldn't be on the clock either.
They came to their senses and have me going to Hartford instead.
Whew~
How about writing for Mad Magazine? They still publish that, right?
Oh come on that's simply not true it's got much more interesting again since you went home... you seem to have the energy to be angry at life again.
AND WE LOVE THAT.
hmmm... a satin fez and a giant diaper... now there's an idea...
I've missed chatting to you these past few days... why don't you stay home more often on a work night, I mean really, you have to much fun now!!!
*smooches*
Todd, Miss Kendra had a string of horrible luck earlier this year, but it broke eventually. They all do. It's just hell waiting for it to stop, is all.
Try the fez and diaper thing, though. That sounds fun.
my name was invoked here.
it's true, i had HORRIBLE luck. and it's breaking.
i got a job! no one has hit me with their car recently! in approximately four months i will maybe have saved up enough money to escape my doomed relationship!
woooo!
louisville might not be vegas, but there are certainly worse places to be. 50 miles isn't too bad if it's highway driving.
That was the problem. You shouldn't have moved to vegas. My ex is an attorney there and when we were planning on getting back together, he forgot to tell me that he was living with his girlfriend. Asshole!!! See, I don't even live there and I'm bitter.
I'm flashing you right now hoping that will lift your spirits a little! ;)
your blog was better when you were in Vegas?
damn, i missed it. i just started reading.
As a former Louisvillian, it can be a boring backwater. Maybe try to meet someone relatively close, like Cincy or Nashville or Lexington? I dunno, at least you're fairly centrally located now compared to Vegas. Work with me here - I'm trying to find that silver lining people are always jabbering on about.
Anyway, I'll be over in the corner, fondling one of these chick's boobs. Doesn't matter who.
Cheer up! You could be a teacher making shit pay and getting treated like shit on a daily basis! Noble profession, indeed.
Dude-
I was serious about the air traffic controller thing...
http://stats.bls.gov/oco/ocos108.htm
hee. Wrinkle cream.
Count the ways things could be worse:
1. You could lose your thumb in an industrial meat grinding accident. It could be re-attached, but the doctor may be of questionable skill. You'd still have a thumb, but it would no longer be opposeable. It would be agreeable.
2. You could be touring in the gerontological supper theater road show version of "Careless Whisper: a Heterosexual Ice Dancing Tribute to Wham! (featuring George Michael)". You'd have to spend 45 minutes after every performance explaining to audience members that George Michael is not featured in the show. The parenthetical use of his name in the show title is just an accurate depiction of the performance credit for their second most known song.
Sysm, you're a freaky cat. I dig that about you.
tits,
can I have an entire conversation with you while looking directly at your boobs? I think that would make me feel better.
knitty,
that made me happy until I read of your self-imposed hiatus. Now I'm all sad again.
ladybug,
no, she was all quantity, no quality.
anthony,
they ran out of grain.
nick,
those socialists don't pay for anything.
housekeeper,
I hope you aren't a career counselor.
steph,
I normally listen to hot chicks such as yourself, but the whole "sex with guys" thing is a deal breaker.
flounder,
an hour and a half? Good god. I don't like to drive that far to have fun, let alone work.
teri,
no, I was just stating a statcounter-proven fact, not pointing fingers at anyone. Thanks for the pithyness.
kat,
I'm not sure. I think they still reference Spiro Agnew, so they're right up my alley.
tlsd,
I don't have THAT MUCH fun.
ubie,
I think my "bad luck" has a lot to do with having no marketable skills.
mbfic,
wow, the only woman on earth who isn't worthless and you're taken. Damn the luck.
kendra,
yes, your name was invoked. I was going to name my blog "Kendra Visited Vegas and Didn't Attempt to Meet Me, Thus Breaking My Heart", but then I moved.
burr,
was he going to try to have a girlfriend in Vegas and another in Cali? Those lawyers are smart.
little,
it does, especially if you "put 'em on the glass(computer screen)".
m,
if "better" implies "good", then no, it was never "better".
crystal,
did you say something before the comment about playing with your boobs? Because that's all I can think about now.
john,
I have no problem with Louisville. I'm just not in the mood to put up with dating at this time.
brooke,
c'mon, you love being a teacher; but I appreciate the attempt to make me feel better.
housekeeper,
I don't think I could handle the stress.
aughra,
that was a bit of a cheap shot on my part. Teri Hatcher is a beautiful woman. It's just that she and Eva Longoria are the only two I can name, and Eva's like twenty-four.
sysm,
I need my thumbs to hitch hike.
dena,
that's what I've been waiting to hear.
john,
sysm is good people.
You make me nervous sometimes.
Love ya!
"What I'm thinking of when I should be sleeping":
Todd
todd, you're too funny for your own good - do you even know how funny you are??? i'm guilty, i haven't been by in a while (not that you care), but you do entertain!
and the teri hatcher comment....heyzeus that was stinkin' funny!! :)
don't date teri hatcher-like people. they smell like urine and skin cream.
why should i be laughing at your angst? Laughing at angst isn't polite, yet...
why don't you just write?
(probably the same reasons I don't--don't know how to get published, don't think I'm good enough, haven't any real direction, too lazy to pull a plot out of my ass...)
Whatever. You should so write for a living. totally.
does your blog make money for you?
I love you.
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