I let you in.
Told you things.
Shared with you.
Let you touch my things.
Let you play with my stuff.
Let you touch my hair.
Lent you words.
Gave you blank space to apply your greatness.
If you came back, I’d probably press repeat.
him: Wanna try sexting?
him: Yeah, little bit of dirty talk!
me: Oh! Ok ;-)
him: Some naughty pics :-)
him: K! You go first! Send a naughty pic!
So, I do. To the wrong person!!! Shit! Fuck! What do I do? Which way do I go?? How long has it been? 1 minute, no response from wrong recipient! Ok, do what every other mature, adult sexter would do!
me: Oops! Sorry! That was for someone else!
Move along, like nothing happened. Ughhhh!
Btw, I’m done sexting.
When I finally rolled out of bed, I discovered that I’m out of green tea and honey. Shit! Throw on yoga pants (hey! they’re not pajamas!!) and go to the grocery. As I stand there, miserably looking for a decent green (cough, cough, hack, hack), I am getting looks of death from the other patrons. Like I’m the deviant “Outbreak” jerk, spewing disease on all the poedunk town-dwellers. Relax fuckers, it’s a sinus infection! Sheesh! That helped my happy mood.
Get home, make tea, wait for phone call. Interviewer is a dude (great). Tea is not helping. Still coughing, voice sounds like I just smoked a whole pack of Camel non-filters, happy attitude is making me sound snarky. He ends the interview by saying,
"Thanks for your time today. I will pass this on to the District Manager, and if he feels you meet the qualifications, he will give you a call."
What I interpret this to mean,
"Hey, thanks for wasting my time today. I’m now going to call everyone else on the list, in hopes of finding someone who is not such a snarky, asshole."
I woke up to a hot mess of a self this morning. I rarely remember dreams, but when I do, they are the ones that are so fucking crazy that you don’t even want to think about what they might mean. Maybe I had to many drinks after taking some medicine for this awful cough. Yes, I ignore the warnings that say do not ingest alcoholic beverages with this medication. Like, what’s the worst that could happen ( snark, snark )? The medicine didn’t help anyway. I still sound like a seal begging for sardines. And I can’t erase some of the images that keep popping into my head from my dream. Today can suck it.
I have a phone interview today. I hate interviews, but I need a job. At least I can remain in bed and in my panties for this one. My shitty disposition for this day is probably a good indicator that I’ve already blown this interview. Again, today can suck it.
Must find something positive to focus on. For days now, I have been miserable. I feel like misery is my outfit. Like, that is what people see when I walk out of the house. Hey look, here comes misery. Can’t let that happen today. Find something positive!!
Whatever is meant to be, will work out perfectly.
Damn, I hope that is true.
I dreamt of you last night. I was talking, you were listening. But, you would not talk, would not respond. I was getting so upset at your silence. So mad, in fact, that instead of talking, I began throwing words at you. So many words, that when I was done, you stood in a pile of words as tall as you. Still silent, you reached in your pocket and pulled out a tiny vial. So tiny, it could not possibly hold one word, yet somehow you put every thrown word into it. You corked the vial, hung it around your neck, and said, “Next time, I will talk to you”. And then walked away.