So.
Someone somewhere proposed a new solution to something that may or may not be a problem.
So.
Someone else decided that we need to start using this “solution” ASAP.
So.
It is now 11 extra steps to a process that was already 36 steps too long.
I think I just found a tiny pocket of rage I hadn’t quite exhausted before.
Andy Borowitz joked that he’s been drinking since the election.
It occurs to me that I’ve been overeating since the election.
And drinking, of course. My nerves are shot.
I was trying to get motivated after killing a bottle of wine last night and again tonight … and not even getting as much as a buzz …
And I thought, fuck. If I can stay sober during Tangerine Tiny Hands’ first 100 days, it’ll be a friggin’ miracle.
But maybe if I can just eat normal portions during those 100 days, I can have a couple cocktails a week.
When they go low, we aim lower.
On this day last year, I decided that 2016 would be the year of “enough.”
I defined it materialistically in my head. That what I had was enough. Enough clothes, enough income, enough friends.
I see now where that went horribly wrong.
By year-end 2016, I’d had enough, all right — enough of the users, abusers and insults and wasted time. Enough inane conversations and not enough time to get things done. Not even great things — just daily things. That I’d had more than enough of.
So I thought I’d come into 2017 with “plenty” as my mantra. I have plenty. I will always have plenty. Blessings are plentiful.
But I wonder if that doesn’t throw me into another dumpster fire of a year like the one that just mercifully ended a few hours ago.
Of course, if Trump really does become president (gah, ugh, hork, vomit), we’re fucked. Illiterate, ill-spoken, ill-tempered and small-dicked fool.
And I’ve already had PLENTY ENOUGH of his shit.
Need to think about this one a bit. This next four years is already going to be a goddamned nightmare.
Need to figure out where to get some joy where I can. And right now, I don’t see where it will come from.
Other than from fellow Democrats and the internet …
All I wanted this week was time to do a report that I’d normally have to lose nights and at least a weekend to complete.
But alas. We have illusions to create. I found myself busier than ever. And behind as usual. What report?
No magic here …
Between deplorables trying to Twitter-troll me and some Pantsuit Nation babes telling me I’m not “of color” enough to be outraged at Trump … and Carrie Fisher and Debbie Reynolds dying within 24 hours of each other … 2016 is officially deplorable enough to earn a Cabinet position.
Irony: My Pantsuit Nation shirt arrived today. It’s too big. Maybe it’s a sign. Who knows.
I hate the world today.
Facebook memories reminded me a few days ago that Sia and I were eating dinner at Dada that night.
Big day for us. Big celebration of being the most amazing team ever, at my favorite restaurant that she quickly adopted as hers too. My Christmas gift to her, that feast.
Facebook memories reminded me today that it’s the day I got shitcanned from my last full-time job.
I blame the job and the cunt in charge for ruining my friendship with Sia.
Sia tried. She really did. But I was so deflated. I was supposed to be a role model. I was supposed to have my shit together. I was supposed to lead us to greatness.
Instead she got crushed under the massive workload and ultimately worked herself into an early grave at age 31.
I wasn’t afraid I’d walk in to a pink slip today. (Perhaps more afraid that I wouldn’t? Just kidding. I know who’s reading this. Got to enjoy some humor where I can get it these days.)
Getting let go was one of those life-changing events that wasn’t really good for my nerves, my career or my friendships. It didn’t make me stronger. If anything, it gave me more anxiety than I already had.
It needed to happen. I can say that now. I still won’t send the bitch a thank-you card, as she was expecting when she said I would thank her someday.
It’s not like I will get that time … or that seniority … or that spark … or my friend … back.
The things you lose in exchange for the ability to funnel all your money into ever-rising rents, I tell you.
Normally I’m riddled with anxiety. But on this Christmas Day, I took a long walk, argued with idiot Trump voters on Facebook, enjoyed my Panrsuit Nation friends, dressed up like an elf, dressed my cat up like an elf, ate delicious food and chilled with a hot cup of blueberry tea.
Today we learned the world spared Carrie Fisher but took George Michael. 2016 is going to suck until its bitter end. Then it’s nuclear war thanks to Deputy Dumbshit down the road when he moves to my beloved Washington.
I’ll worry about all that, and then some, tomorrow.
Today I learned that someone has a crush on me. I’m terrified and yet I feel limitless.
That I can have people treat me poorly and try in their pitiful way to make me feel “lesser than.” And yet others think I am pretty terrific just as I am, as “Bridget Jones” once put it.
Just as I am.
So yeah. I’m going to keep being me. And snarking and changing my hair color and dancing and dreaming and moving along with my life.
But yeah. Me. Bring loved.
I mean it’s not a new concept. I know of many songs that were sung about me. But it’s nice to know what when I was getting snapped at and put down by lesser people, others didn’t see the scratched soul.
They saw something special. They saw me, just as I am. And it wasn’t just that I was good enough, but even better.
Merry day, indeed.
Impossibly and wonderfully short first “thing” of the day. Winner winner, ham and turkey dinner.
Then I ran to Bux. My favorite barista told me how great I looked and asked “my number now.”
Now, we’ve had this ongoing thing where she will ask me how much weight I’ve lost. I use my highest number as a baseline.
I thought for a second and said “76.”
Before I could do the math, though, another barista yelled out, “Her number is 1-800-BABE!”
LMAO.
They congratulated me and we all went about our day.
Then I walked outside and found a lucky penny on the ground. Heads side was up.
Good to see you, Abe. I already knew it was a good day, but it was good to have the confirmation.
I love this day.
