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2006-12-06 @ 5:48 p.m.
Lots to talk about, not much to say

By golly, there's so much to talk about but since I'm very OCD, like my love slave Howie Mandel (shut up!), I shall proceed by making a bulleted list of exciting events from the last 48 hours...

  • I've decided to write a humorous piece for The New Yorker about my fleeting "event" with Handyman. I'm calling it "Charm or No Charm". Names will be changed, of course, and it will be very "War of the Roses-ish". I figure I might as well get paid for all my swirling discontent, since my new motto is: "Get Paid for Your Angst...That Way You Can Pay for Your Internet Connection."

  • I got an alarming call from my doctor. Remember those evil nurses and their needles late last week? Well it seems that my glucose levels are sky high, which can only mean one thing: Diabetes. Naturally being a hypochondriac (thanks Mom), I went to the internet and realized I had virtually all the symptoms. Thirst, excessive urination, extreme hunger (you should see me foraging at night. Its like watching Kirstie Alley at a free luncheon), blurry vision, increased fatigue (I usually walk 10-12 miles a week. In the last month, I've walked maybe a mile a week) and get this INCREASED IRRITABILITY.

    Now I know you're all saying, there must be some mistake here. Our little witty being irritable? No Way! I mean, no waaa-ay!!! Not the woman who screams at cat food cans when they don't open correctly and then blames it on something that happened in 1964.

    So I have to go in for some kind of fancy mc schmancy fasting blood test tomorrow. I actually had a brush with diabetes about 7 years ago. I weighed about 30 pounds more and had to stick needles in my fingers all day. I just hope this isn't a repeat, since who wants to give up chocolate right before Christmas anytime?

  • Who was that weird woman on the phone last night? Okay, last night about 9:45 pm. some woman called me and said we had met at my art show and that she was from This Place and they were looking to hire someone for This Position. And bloddy bloddy bloddy, yaa, yaa, yaa. To be honest, she never once stopped talking, laughing, giggling, making jokes, saying how great I'd be there for OVER A FUCKING HOUR! I mean, we were talking until almost 11:00 at night! And I was just standing in the kitchen going, "Am I being Punked?"
    Because I really didn't know who the hell she was. I vaguely did. Sorta. But she was talking so much that I was unable to really jump in and say, Yea or Nay. Of course I want a job, but it was weird, having some girl call me for something that I hadn't even applied for, and then giggling madly and saying, "Gee, you practically have it!! Just come down and get an application!!"

    So I did go down today with my resume, and the reception area was full of people with fancy degrees who had worked in the social service field for years and years. And there I was, in jeans and my beret, with only an AA degree in nothing. I wasn't interviewing though. I was just filling out the application and listening to all the other applicants trying to verbally outdo each other with all their expansive experience. As for myself, on the job application where it asked what I expected to be doing in five years I wrote: "Being Happy."

  • But I almost didn't make it to Five Years from Now, because when I was driving there, some asshole pulled out from a side street DIRECTLY in front of me and it was so close that I had to swerve dramatically and ended up on the curb on the side street. And I was traveling on the MAIN STREET. That's how dramatic my swerve was. Fucking dickhead!!!! I was so shaken that I had trouble filling out the job application right afterwards because my hands were still shaking.

  • Did I mention I can't wait to see the movie "Dreamgirls?" Woot!

  • And finally, my wonderful friend "G" down in Manhattan sent me an early Christmas present and the nice thing about having a gay man as your best friend is: THEY ABSOLUTELY NEVER MISS ON GREAT GIFTS!!! I was all bummed out yesterday. Beating myself up. Feeling depressed. But when I got home from my appointment with "A", there was this thick envelope in my mailbox. And when I opened it, it was a gift certificate for a full Beauty Spa Treatment!!! Oh My God, I just about died and went to heaven. The package includes a massage, a manicure and a pedicure at some local frou frou yuppie beauty spa! So I sent him an e-mail and said I had just had a bad week and asked if it was okay to use it before Christmas and he said no problem. So see! Gay men really know how to treat women! And I don't even have to be held up to some random weird "charm" requirement by a man who didn't have any.

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  • Lyrics by Lennon/McCartney. All angst copyright by awittykitty