When I was a child, I thought people sucked as a child. Yes, lots of people sucked. My parents sucked. My hillbilly neighbors sucked. My eventual schoolmates? They sucked too. Like Bartleby, I preferred not to. Just leave me alone. I have reading to do. OK, I finished that book, so why not lie in the snow way out back (yonder) and pray to freeze to death?
But when I became a woman, I really put childish things on the FAST TRACK! I still thought people sucked, but suddenly I also had the power to make that fact known and create consequences for them because of it. Sex, money, approval? Knocking people off chairs? I realized the power of giving and receiving. The Christian way, really.
Perhaps my heart froze in the back yard. Or perhaps I am just honest.
These days, I am feeling a bit unfocused in the application of my enmity due to a particular condition that’s come over me. I don’t know what to call it. Mindfulness? Empathy? Laziness?
I’m also suffering from a lack of reciprocal hate since I changed employment and failed to alienate a full 100% of my co-workers. I feel so…alone. I mentioned to Mr. H that it would so gratifying to see a list of all the people I’ve ever met who really hate me. I’d know they cared!
Like “Wow, that asshole from high school still carries a torch…of hatred!” or “Hey, that bitch got fat, AND she can’t stand me.” Life just gives and gives sometimes. If you only care enough to hate. First and last and always.
I need someone to take dictation. Ideally someone with some really flumpy sweater kittens. Anyone? Eh, I guess I will continue to shout out loud to myself while I drive. A significant portion of my day is still spent driving, and while I try to delight in the anthropological value of watching a Prius ruthlessly cut off the Coexist-plastered Tercel that ruthlessly cut off me, sometimes the good life wears thin, as Stephin Merritt said. I need an evil twin to handle my commute!
And once I’m on the job, I need to exert a certain amount of mental energy in vanquishing my enemies. Luckily, they pretty much take care of themselves, owing to their stunning incapacity. I am going to suggest the patented Vomitola program of vanquishing when I am next at the Pentagon. I could do it in less than 5 slides, including stick figures and case studies. And with that, we’d save billions of dollars a month, as we leave our enemies to inevitably ruin themselves. We could build a giant dome and keep to ourselves with the extra cash. A swimming pool full of money for every man, woman, and child! Now there’s a stimulus.
But this experiment called life is not all eye rolling on conference calls and sniffing white board markers as others flap their gums. Sometimes we find time to do things! Lambchop has been very busy luring passersby into a van, and she is working on a series of Tiny and Very Reasonable paintings (as seen above!), which can be coveted and purchased at Sparkleheads.com.
I am thinking of raising money on Kickstarter to snap up the .sucks domain when internet anarchy begins to reign next year. I only need $185,000 more, and I think I’ll be good. My company would be called Everything.Sucks. We’re all you need for things that suck! I am assuming I will face stiff competition for the acquisition from Verizon.
Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have to figure out why my Entourage calendar keeps flipping to 2013. Does Microsoft outrank Mayan prophecy?
Show of hands here: who considers Lambchop to be his or her personal nemesis, and who spent last night weeping into a stray sock because Lambchop suggested that someone else is her own nemesis? Are you just trying to make us jealous? Well, it worked. We all hopped on AIM and started sharing stories of remi-nemesis-ing.
“Once she drove over my foot with a car! And she doesn’t even have a license.”
“She always called me fat in the bathroom at Man Ray!”
I am foggy in the brain pan. I feel like Vince Noir just had a party upstairs.
Yesterday was a real corker. The World’s Vilest Human is up to her usual cunning tricks. I am legally bound to abstain from the details, but surely you can relate. Hasn’t everyone had some Prof. Moriarty type figure in their lives at one time or another, forever throwing a hissing cartoon bomb through the window of your sanity, or shoving you off a cliff?
My current arch nemesis lobs her flaming bags of poo through the email, and such a case of ire ensued yesterday that I got into a pointless disagreement and took off at a furious clip on my bicycle, at a speed a little antisocial for the Kent St. bike lane on a Sunday. The exercise had a calming effect, but left me with a terrible headache. I took 2 ibuprofen and went to sleep.
Today I have been unable to keep my eyes open all day. My work is not exacly designed for wakefulness, but outright narcolepsy is unusual. Suddenly I remembered (about as suddenly as the oil drifts to the top of a lava lamp, actually) that the only painkillers I have at home (apart from my emergency hope chest of vicodin and klonipin, bless you darlings) are ibuprofen PM, of which I merrily gulped down 2 according to directions. I did not take my hobbit size into account, sadly, or the fact that I never take the stuff so probably have no resistance. I nodded off right into my shaved parmesan arugula! I can see Obama tut-tutting at me, for I am a disgrace.
Let this be a lesson to you people. Take pills for pleasure, not for business, never follow directions, and make sure it is the Professor who goes over the falls and not you. It makes for much better tv. Oh, I don’t know, either. But if you have a good story about *your* arch nemesis, please tell us about it. Especially if it is going badly.