Connubial bliss is making me lazy, if this past extremely pleasant weekend is any indication. I can't really blame brokeness; that has nothing to do with the gym suddenly being anathema and me hardly being able to remember the proposed subject of a doctoral thesis. I'm going to be 28 in a little more than a month - keep expecting myself to grow some sort of work ethic and it keeps not happening.
Part of the problem is the Sopranos - we must have watched 10 episodes over the last two days. Thank god they only have until season four at the video store; ten more episodes and our lives will be our own again. And about time. Figaro pointed out that Ralphie doing poppers and getting done with a vibrator was digging a bit for audience share and on reflection I agree. I can imagine the Ralphie we've been getting to know is a big pervert, but not one who likes to get told he's mummy's little whore. And I should know.
The dress code at work has been adjusted. Our director wants us, from Tuesday to Thursday, to dress well enough that we could show up at an impromptu funeral if we had to, which is a big tighten. Monday goes casual, as well as Friday. To that I say, Jesus. My whole department could do their jobs from home anyways, and we do zero personal reception, and now you want me to wear uncomfortable shoes three days a week without paying me more? Up until recently I've been pretty happy at work, considering I think my company's mandate is evil. But the waves of Whine are rising up in me like tsunamis. Saints preserve the people who are forced to listen to them.
10 commenti:
Thanks for the tea and sympathy, Lady, I know you know whereof I come.
i apologize for the redundant sentence structure - "increasingly more" is probably the last thing you needed to read this morning. ;)
Why does your director want this all of a sudden? Did anyone ask why? My former workplace was so great for lack of dress code..and my current workplace is even better. ;)
28, 28, 28. 2 + 8 = 10. What my point is I have no idea.
I don't know, why, Mel, some fucking bullshit. Maybe because sometimes I've liked to see how many days in a row I can go without grooming.
I don't know about the 28 = 10 stuff either. One of my old roommates used to be into numerology. Maybe she'd know.
1+0=1 I think Melbine is telling you that it doesn't matter how old you are - you are as you interpret your age. In this interpretation you are free to act as mature as a one-year-old. Is that the oral or anal phase? Does it matter?
It doesn't matter, as long as I don't have to choose.
Eww, there's an anal phase?? Thank God we don't consciously remember that. Geez.
As far as numerology goes, I've got a great little book that talks about the number 1. It's good stuff, as long as you harness the power of 2 to manifest the energy of 1. Or something like that.
Sounds like computers.
If you want to get Freudian about it, if you've ever shit your pants and felt overwhelming shame you still uncomfortably remember to this day, the anal phase has never really ended. Stupid fucking Freud.
Oh god. On an episode of the Sopranos this weekend, Tony and Furio were intimidating Uncle Junior's oncologist on a golf course and Furio called golf a "stupidafuckingame". I love when Neopolitans swear in English. So cute. Stupidafuckinfreud.
Why would you feel shame about shitting your pants? That's hilarious in my mind! Ha-ha, crapped my pants! Man I'm puerile.
Why do you have to attend funerals at your work? Why do they happen only in the three middle of the days of the week? It sounds suspicious, and the fact that you're watching Sopranos might be a Sign. You should call the RCMP.
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