get it right the first time, then you wouldn't have these problems
The Mets dropped two of three at home to the fucking Braves. It's early in the season, really early, but it feels like 1990whatever - 2005 all over again. I can stomach losses to just about any other team, even the Yankees, but I take watching the Mets/Braves rivalry extremely personally. When the Mets lose to the Braves, it makes me want to throw a battery at a motherfucker.
I called my parents to bitch, but they weren't home. They called me 10 minutes later from my grandma's house to bitch about the same thing. My father used the word "fuck" liberally and then passed the phone on to my mom. She wasn't too happy about it either, but she doesn't use "fuck" too much. We said some snippy things to each other and then started laughing about it. It's only April, we reminded ourselves, we've got a whole season of aggravation to look forward to.
All day I've been putting off rewriting this cover letter and resume. I'm putting it off now too. I got some help editing it. I'm afraid of a few things: death, spiders, deadly spiders; but my worst fear is failure. Probably because I feel like I've failed at just about everything. The only reason why I'm applying for another job is because I feel like I've done poorly at this one, and another project I've had a significant hand in is struggling to survive. This doesn't make me happy. I wanted this to succeed more than anything. It still might. I don't know.
This other job seems like a good opportunity. It'll bring me back home, probably get me a bit more money, and allow me to keep doing what I like to do without a lot of the responsibility. But this folded piece of paper--the edited cover letter and resume--sitting in front of me on the desk is giving my stomach fits.
This whole weekend has been like this. A bit of a waste. I didn't do anything on Saturday. It rained all day, and I stayed in bed to read the new run of Wonder Woman comics. I only stepped outside to go to the mailbox to see if my new Netflix movie had arrived. It had. It was Art School Confidential, and I really liked it. Before that, I watched this Woody Allen flick called Anything Else. I didn't realize it was one of Allen's until I got it home. I'd only put it in my queue because Christina Ricci's in it. I liked that one a lot too, though Jason Biggs was a bit annoying. The only reason I left the house today is because my roommates invited me to go to the park. There was cheese, crackers and beer involved. This one type of cheese smelled like ass. I've washed my hands five times since, but the stench is still there. It didn't taste much better either.
I got a little buzzed at the park so we headed to Safeway for more beer. I got a bottle of wine too that I'll nurse at night before I go to bed. I also got ice cream, White Castles from the freezer section and Stephen Colbert's Americone Dream (it's tasty). All of the items were frivolous, so I put them on my credit card. I've really got to get this letter done.
I called my parents to bitch, but they weren't home. They called me 10 minutes later from my grandma's house to bitch about the same thing. My father used the word "fuck" liberally and then passed the phone on to my mom. She wasn't too happy about it either, but she doesn't use "fuck" too much. We said some snippy things to each other and then started laughing about it. It's only April, we reminded ourselves, we've got a whole season of aggravation to look forward to.
All day I've been putting off rewriting this cover letter and resume. I'm putting it off now too. I got some help editing it. I'm afraid of a few things: death, spiders, deadly spiders; but my worst fear is failure. Probably because I feel like I've failed at just about everything. The only reason why I'm applying for another job is because I feel like I've done poorly at this one, and another project I've had a significant hand in is struggling to survive. This doesn't make me happy. I wanted this to succeed more than anything. It still might. I don't know.
This other job seems like a good opportunity. It'll bring me back home, probably get me a bit more money, and allow me to keep doing what I like to do without a lot of the responsibility. But this folded piece of paper--the edited cover letter and resume--sitting in front of me on the desk is giving my stomach fits.
This whole weekend has been like this. A bit of a waste. I didn't do anything on Saturday. It rained all day, and I stayed in bed to read the new run of Wonder Woman comics. I only stepped outside to go to the mailbox to see if my new Netflix movie had arrived. It had. It was Art School Confidential, and I really liked it. Before that, I watched this Woody Allen flick called Anything Else. I didn't realize it was one of Allen's until I got it home. I'd only put it in my queue because Christina Ricci's in it. I liked that one a lot too, though Jason Biggs was a bit annoying. The only reason I left the house today is because my roommates invited me to go to the park. There was cheese, crackers and beer involved. This one type of cheese smelled like ass. I've washed my hands five times since, but the stench is still there. It didn't taste much better either.
I got a little buzzed at the park so we headed to Safeway for more beer. I got a bottle of wine too that I'll nurse at night before I go to bed. I also got ice cream, White Castles from the freezer section and Stephen Colbert's Americone Dream (it's tasty). All of the items were frivolous, so I put them on my credit card. I've really got to get this letter done.
4 comments:
I was all set to buy Americone Dream this weekend-- got a craving for it-- and couldn't find it at the store. I was not a happy camper.
It's crunchy and gooey and I think I love it.
I'm out of the loop. No more mag? No more chico?
Nah...I'm still here. There's still a mag. We're just coming out quarterly now. I don't like getting into specifics about work here.
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