American Idol is good for the soul
I apologize for my non-sensical post from yesterday; I was in between bouts of vomiting and crying hysterically, so, despite being fuckin' articulate, I couldn't really harness my feelings...it was like verbal diarrhea of the fingertips. Sexy, no?
To clarify what transpired: my coworker (hi, coworker! Thanks for all the joy you brought me yesterday!) found this blog, read my post about 2006 and how awesome it's been so far. Hmmm, this reminds of me of the time I wrote about how awesome my cat is and then he died two weeks later.
Anyway, so coworker extraordinaire -- about whom, I might add, I have never written one negative word -- read the part about me interviewing in Missoula, then went into the office and told three people. Granted, two of those people already knew. Still, she told one guy who has absolutely no reason to know. If he were my supervisor, perhaps, but he's not; I'm his supervisor. I was so incredibly hurt -- why would she tell everyone before talking to me about it first? I don't understand. The only explanation I can think of was that it was the pure thrill of having a juicy piece of gossip that motivated her.
What's really sick is that she didn't want me to know that she knew (I feel as though I'm in 6th grade again) and that she told the other dude. How fucking sick is that -- to keep me in the dark, let me think that I had some modicum of privacy? I don't know what I'm going to do now if I don't get this job.
So, there was that yesterday and some dumbass thing involving my credit card company and me getting screwed out of $40 for trying to do the right thing (it's okay, I didn't really need to eat next week or anything). I was not a happy camper.
My spirits were a'lifted a bit in the evening at our staff Christmas party (yes, in late January) where I drank loads of vodka and ate my weight in sushi. What really made everything okay in the world, though, was American Idol. Who needs to drown their sorrows in booze when you can turn on AI? It's instant reassurance: "Wow, look at these morons. I don't think I'm such a loser after all."
I've been an AI fan since the beginning. I have fond memories of the summer of 2002, walking over to my friend AS's house (funny story: after getting married, her initials are now ASS), making mai tais or amaretto sours or margaritas, sometimes ordering Chinese food from Honey Teriyaki (we got to know them pretty well so that by the end of the summer we were getting a bag of fortune cookies with our delivery), getting hammered, and watching AI. Afterward, I would stumble home, totally not passing out in a park along the way. Those were simpler times.
I think I'm one of the rare AI watchers who doesn't like the bad performances. Not only do I feel sorry and embarrassed for the contestants, but I have to stop what I'm doing and cover my ears whenever someone commits crimes against pitch and rhythm. Sometimes I just want to listen to 8-second snippets of lite pop and knit, you know? My yarn gets all messed up from constantly throwing down my project so I can put my hands on my ears. I don't need more stress in my life, man.
Still, though, you can't watch American Idol and be sad. It's a fact.
You know what else lifts one's mood? Reading the updated Lepidoptera Lady. Also a fact.
To clarify what transpired: my coworker (hi, coworker! Thanks for all the joy you brought me yesterday!) found this blog, read my post about 2006 and how awesome it's been so far. Hmmm, this reminds of me of the time I wrote about how awesome my cat is and then he died two weeks later.
Anyway, so coworker extraordinaire -- about whom, I might add, I have never written one negative word -- read the part about me interviewing in Missoula, then went into the office and told three people. Granted, two of those people already knew. Still, she told one guy who has absolutely no reason to know. If he were my supervisor, perhaps, but he's not; I'm his supervisor. I was so incredibly hurt -- why would she tell everyone before talking to me about it first? I don't understand. The only explanation I can think of was that it was the pure thrill of having a juicy piece of gossip that motivated her.
What's really sick is that she didn't want me to know that she knew (I feel as though I'm in 6th grade again) and that she told the other dude. How fucking sick is that -- to keep me in the dark, let me think that I had some modicum of privacy? I don't know what I'm going to do now if I don't get this job.
So, there was that yesterday and some dumbass thing involving my credit card company and me getting screwed out of $40 for trying to do the right thing (it's okay, I didn't really need to eat next week or anything). I was not a happy camper.
My spirits were a'lifted a bit in the evening at our staff Christmas party (yes, in late January) where I drank loads of vodka and ate my weight in sushi. What really made everything okay in the world, though, was American Idol. Who needs to drown their sorrows in booze when you can turn on AI? It's instant reassurance: "Wow, look at these morons. I don't think I'm such a loser after all."
I've been an AI fan since the beginning. I have fond memories of the summer of 2002, walking over to my friend AS's house (funny story: after getting married, her initials are now ASS), making mai tais or amaretto sours or margaritas, sometimes ordering Chinese food from Honey Teriyaki (we got to know them pretty well so that by the end of the summer we were getting a bag of fortune cookies with our delivery), getting hammered, and watching AI. Afterward, I would stumble home, totally not passing out in a park along the way. Those were simpler times.
I think I'm one of the rare AI watchers who doesn't like the bad performances. Not only do I feel sorry and embarrassed for the contestants, but I have to stop what I'm doing and cover my ears whenever someone commits crimes against pitch and rhythm. Sometimes I just want to listen to 8-second snippets of lite pop and knit, you know? My yarn gets all messed up from constantly throwing down my project so I can put my hands on my ears. I don't need more stress in my life, man.
Still, though, you can't watch American Idol and be sad. It's a fact.
You know what else lifts one's mood? Reading the updated Lepidoptera Lady. Also a fact.
posted by BPDubs at 9:17 PM
3 Comments:
I work with a woman who loves to spread gossip like some people spread cheez whiz on a cracker.
She is so malicious that she actually tells coworkers negative lies about the bosses, hoping only to get the worker to reciprocate some of the negative attitudes. If they do, and I feel so sorry for the people that have shared their feelings with her, she goes running to the head honchos and tells them what one of the workers just said.
It's too bad that one of your coworkers found your blog. I had a similar thing happen after hurricane Katrina hit the Gulf Coast. I had been writing posts about my wife's family. And although I used fake names, the stories were real. To make a very long story short, one of my sister-in-laws found my blog and went ape shit. Then the family went ape shit. And before I knew what was happening, there was ape shit everywhere.
That's why I can't write about those bastards anymore.
As for your coworker, when they found your blog, they should have discussed it with you first. But since they didn't, and instead they started telling everyone your private business, I'll hold them down for you while you release the bees.
Wow, did you already know that we have an indoor observation bee hive? I'm the only one who works with the bees, the only one who knows how to make their base somewhat unstable, the only one who knows how to act when they're on the loose...New Orleans isn't that far from here...
Good, good luck with the potential job. Loved this posting today and also your Lepidoptera posting...very, very good chica!
Post a Comment
<< Home