Happy S.A.D. And Screw You All I'm Going Home...
I get that I have offended Cupid. Probably due to my lack of a romantic relationship since Milli Vanilli was considered talented. I guess when you put your career over love, small babies with arrows get pissed. So far the highlights of S.A.D. -past included:
*The police ransacking my room looking for stolen goods that my brother "found" (aka stole out of the car belonging to a DEA agent).
*My mother checking herself into a psych ward, as a revenge tactic, then truly becoming psychotic. If I never see cheap cigarettes again it will be too soon.
While most people think today means hearts, flowers and all things beautiful, I just hope to make it through the day without an anvil dropping on my head.
This year the baby curse stayed true and I found myself stuck in an office for 4 hours with a coworker who I like to call McGee. Who, in case you read this blog, is the same person who told me that my eggs would turn to dust in 6 months and 16 days (not that I'm counting). Normally I can tune her out with online radio , fleeing to another office, or thoughts of alcoholic beverages, but then Cupid came to town. And I found out that I get to spend more time than normal with her every Thursday from now until retirement. As if I don't want to gouge my eyes balls out with a soup spoon enough. That would be a worker's comp right?
She stayed true to form today, and when talking to a woman who was African American, while watching a movie that had an African American woman in it, McGee says, "See she's just like you...(awkward pause in which I think WTF)... you know because she has two kids." Yeah sure.
The last and final blow to the grain of sand I call my dignity came when I spent dinner with my dad and his girlfriend. That's right folks, I was the third wheel on Valentine's Day. With my dad. Babies with Arrows, 3 Lorelai, 0. Game. Set. Match.