"Damn, commie bastards!"

My dad was very much not unlike Red Foreman on That 70s Show. Something went wrong or if someone was being unpatriotic, out came some remark about the communists ruining the good of American life.

I had a long post going about the recent election and my absolute depressing disappointment with the citizens of the United States of America for re-electing the puppet in office...but the computer suddenly decided to swallow it...for all you conspiracy lovers out there, I really blame the encroaching U.S. government and their patriot act and the dislike for what I had to say about the moron in office (you know I'm talking about you).

It was good to just get it out anyways. May never be written about again. Just know that I don't like my president and I fear for our lives. Foreign terrorists have nothing over a man who has his finger on the button and has no idea what the hell he is doing.

On the home front....I'm pissed. Bad day today. Not a very nice person with no sympathy for anyone outside my love circle; and unfortunately, I'm not letting anyone into my love circle. I want to tell everyone to go to hell. Not being very lady-like in my demeanor but who really cares....as one of my confirmation teachers, a crotchety Franciscan monk whose ears and bald spot turned bright red when he was angry yelled one day at our class, "No one loves you. When your mother dies, you're an orphan." So there. pfbbbt!

Got Em's hair cut today. Now...I know God has a weird sense of humor. My child was born with naturally curly hair not unlike my own. When she hit her toddlerhood, her locks went straight and lifeless much to my unhappiness. She's waltzing into her prepubescence as we speak and her hair has made yet another U-turn. Curly. Very curly. Looks like I've permed it. What the hell is up with that?! Has this happened to any other parent. Crazy, crazy. It's cute. It's wonderful. But I'm just stunned. Hormones. GO figure.

I had a job lined up. Working in the clinic cafe. Yay! Guaranteed job. Interviewed last Thursday (I think that's when it was) and was told that I would be hired. On Friday, the boss told Steph that he was going to call me and have me fill out the necessary paperwork. On Monday, I was told that there is no job. The new boss has been making all these new changes at the cafe that will be the demise of the place. I kid you not. His name is Bob. We call him Boob. Bob the boob.

Sooooo, the happiness that I held in my heart fled like a colony of ants fleeing from rampaging storm waters into my den after the hurricane. Oh well....next job.

Personally...I am so ready to date. I think I am. Perhaps. Let's just say that I want to but whether or not my psyche is ready is a matter of debate. Unfortunately that ol' unreliable psyche is in charge. Stupid psyche!

My friend Carrie came into town recently. She and the disaster relief crew from her church helped some of the hard hit folks in southern Alabama. Em and I were treated to a great night of seeing her. YAY! Plus, we got sushi. Double YAY! And, Carrie....I cried when you got into the truck at McDonalds. Hurts when the people you love aren't in your daily life. It really does.

Not much else. Was in good mood not too long ago. Now in crappy mood. I watched Girl, Interrupted the other day and it stirred my need to write about my own psychiatric hospital visit. Perhaps another day. Honestly, there are days when I suddenly remember I was in one. "Oh, yeah! That's right. Hmpf! How could I have forgotten." Ever happen to you? Something so significant in your life becomes a footnote?

Friend told me yesterday about being insular. Sort of stuck with me. Been saying it over and over since then (I tend to get hung up on words at times). Sums up the general feeling of malaise I'm feeling. Insular refers to feeling isolated or being narrow minded. Hmmm. Such a striking word.

Alrighty, then. Going to go and push down a blue-haired or something mean like that.

Comments

[Naomi]

No fruit throwing or such foul stuff from this chick. Eh, I don't even think Boob knows what's going on at the cafe. His name is Bob. He's a boob. I may still get the job. I tell you...those bipolars need to stay out of the workforce....hee hee.

[Sami]

"His name is Bob. We call him Boob. Bob the boob."

*uncontrollable giggles* That's so silly it makes me giddy.

There'll be other jobs. Don't give up. Keep looking! :) ::virtual huggles::

::ducking to avoid anything being hurled in my general direction in response to my optimism::