Swan Song

This place has been good to me. I've enjoyed it here, but I've moved my thoughts to a new home.

I was never really comfortable here anyway. I wasn't free to write completely unencumbered. There are things which I would prefer certain eyes not see - therefore, my visits here became much less frequent, and my writing much more innocuous.

I look forward to my new home on the web, where I will once again be able to write without self-censoring. That's what a blog should be.

In Response To Your Holy Snottiness

First, what I wrote, I stand by.

Second, I (unlike you) did it in private; not on the world wide web, for all the world to see.

Third, I chose to write because I couldn't bear to suffer your "know-it-all" attitude, and I didn't want to hear a word of what you might have said in your Oh So Snotty Jared tone. Been there, done that - not going there anymore.

Fourth, you may call it "stooping to my level" if you like, but I do not judge. I witness. I see your behavior, your screw-ups, what she continually does to bail you out, and your completely ungrateful way of treating her. Like it or not Sonny Boy, I will NOT keep my comments or my concerns to myself. Not now, and not ever. Her business IS my business. That's the way it is.

And as far as my personal life; be VERY careful what you say. I have very little, IF ANY, tolerance left for your snottiness.

Regarding reconciling - Do not delude yourself into thinking that I'm sitting here wringing my hands, hoping that you'll call. I am not. You know first hand that I'm absolutely fine with cutting someone completely out of my life. That's fine with me. So, as to your snotty little sentence about wanting to keep things the way they are, I say, "Bravo!"

Rest assured that from what I have witnessed, you are a thankless brat who should be on your knees kissing her on all 4 cheeks for the life she gave you. Instead, you couldn't even find it in your selfish little self to stay at home just ONE LOUSY NIGHT, to make sure she didn't need an ADULT around. Isn't THAT a fine thank you for a lady who has ALWAYS been there for you!

Yes, you bet your ass I got hot. Too bad if you didn't like it. You had it comming.

One last thing - Some day, she won't be here anymore. Who knows when that day will be. But when it comes, you better hope you've gotten your shit together, because YOU chose to "NOT RECONCILE" with me, and SO BE IT.

Letter To Self:

***EDITED***

Dear Self,

You know what you need to do.

Just Do It!

Tell Me Whyyyyyyyy ???

Why oh WHY must the little old lady who is inevitably in front of me at every single cashier I ever go to, pay her tab with PRECISE change?

I mean, the bill is $7.97 - and she wants to empty her change purse of every bloody nickel and penny she's carrying around, AND it takes her for fucking EVER to count it. And the pennies keep coming, and coming, and they fall, and they roll, and she keeps pulling them out of every crevice in her purse!

WHY?

And why oh WHY must every octogenarian who still drives a car inevitably decide to pull out into traffic directly in front of me, causing me to jack up on the brakes, and then proceed to drive 15 miles per hour? WHY? Why couldn't they just wait another 2 seconds until I speed by, and then they can putt putt along to their heart's content!

Is it a conspiracy? Is there some greater order of old farts who meet in secret, and plot to fray my last nerve at every opportunity?

How did they come to single me out? What did I ever do to them?

I propose that A) All old ladies must use plastic when shopping, and B) Anyone over the age of 70 must have their depth perception tested before being allowed to drive.

Ouch... Ouch... Ouch !!!

I decided that I can't diet off the 10lbs I gained post surgery, so I figured I'd better start working out.

With every good intention, I buy what seems to be a good workout dvd. It entices me by promising that all I have to do is stay with it for a mere 6 weeks, and I will attain the results I desire. Who could resist such a promise? Certainly not I.

So, ever so niavely, I place the devil disc in the player, and hit play. The beginner workout is a measely 30 minutes long, no problem!

And the music begins, and the skinny bitch starts her peppy ... and one and two, and breeeeath. So, off I go. Gangbusters. Pffft! This is no sweat.

Ten minutes into it, I'm thinking, "I hate you ... you skinny bitch" at the poor woman on the screen.

Fifteen minutes into it I'm thinking, "Shit... what did she just do? I can't do that shit! My ass doesn't move that way!"

Twenty minutes into it I'm thinking, "I'm going to die. This is going to kill me. The headline will say, '48 yr old idiot woman exercises to death'

Twenty five minutes into it I'm thinking, "Please let me die."

At 30 minutes, as the skinny bitch is congratulating me for finishing the workout, I collapse on my couch; panting, sweaty, and painfully aware that I have never been so out of shape in my life. But, I felt a strong sense of accomplishment.

This was yesterday.

Today, I'm walking like a 90yr old stroke victim. Every muscle in my body is screaming, and I don't want to go to bed because it means I'll have to wake up tomorrow and do it again!

Piss Me Off !

I was trying to look at new blogs. Places I've never been before. So I clicked on the link at the top of Stacey's blog that says "Next Blog." The next blog that came up was in Spanish. So I clicked on the "Next Blog" link on that one. The next one was in Russian. And the next one was in Spanish, and the next one was in some Asian language, and the next one was in some other language I couldn't discern, and so on, and so on, for about 25 more blogs.

Doesn't anyone blog on Blogger in English????

Who ... Me?

I had my annual review of results yesterday with my boss. (My boss, by the way, is beyond question, the nicest man I have ever met.)

So we go through eight pages of pre-defined behaviors, skills, trends, etc. We talk about my leadership skills, my mentoring skills, my problem-solving skills, the wonderful relationships I have with internal & external customers, the outstanding business results I am enjoying. Essentially, we talk about how absolutely wonderful I am, and how blessed he feels to have me on his team.

And I feel like shit.

Because... I do not work very hard at all. I prefer to work smart.

I do work...

Just not nearly as hard as he thinks I do.

The End Of Camelot

Unless you live in a cave, by now you've heard the news that Senator Kennedy has been diagnosed with inoperable brain cancer.

This news is infinitely sad to most politicaly junkies, the entire US Senate, and especially to those of us who live in Massachusetts.

The Kennedys are Massachusetts' own royalty. Our own personal kings & queens of everything un-ordinary.

No one can argue that the Kennedys have long suffered what most would agree is positively the worst luck imaginable; begining with war hero Joe, and right up through that sad, awful day when John-John and his bride crashed their plane into the Atlantic. It's as if a dark cloud of misery has followed this family for decades, but Ted was always the one to escape it. His son & daughter both beat cancer. He beat the Mary Jo Kopechne incident. He was granted an annullment from first wife Joan, even though she vehemently argued against it (which of course, left him to remain "in good standing" with the Catholic church.)

Yes, he has been spared the long suffering Kennedy curse - until now.

For me, I suppose at heart I am a liberal (although I don't often admit it out loud) and Ted's work for over 45 years in the Senate has been steady, and unfaltering. He is a bona fide, die-hard liberal. People have benefited from his position on the senate floor. I have to admit though, that I was thoroughly disappointed when he endorsed Obama. I can't figure that one.

Anyway, all of this hub-bub is causing me some personal inconvenience. Mass General is one of my customers, and I need to get in there - however - it's rather impossible at the moment. You might think there was royalty in there.

Oh...
That's right...
There is !

Drunkorexic ? !

I saw a story on the news tonight. It was about college girls who have food issues. They count calories, and instead of eating food, opt to get their calories from alcoholic beverages. They're calling this Drunkorexia.

Hell, I've been doing that for years.

I was ahead of my time.

Hot diggity! I'm avante gard. Who knew?