"I've got spursss....that jingle jangle jingle...."

So Charky's birthday was yesterday, and it went okay. None of the kids invited showed up, except for her favorite stepbrother Nicholas. Poor kid. She didn't seem to mind, she was too busy being adored by all of her adult family that came. Granpa and Grandma, Moosie, Mommy and Z, Daddy and new wife, Uncle Johnny...

Dad even skated around the rink and showed how a 54-year old can move better than any of the tweens out there. He's a trip. All I heard while I was there was how he is some kind of freak of nature, he looks better than most of the 30-year olds around. And he does. Weird. I will spend the rest of my life hoping that genetics were good to me, cuz damn.

On a less light note, my new job is kind of hell and I'm already fishing for others. Lady lawyers suck, people. I may be at the point where I refuse to work for another attorney for the rest of my life. Does law school teach people how to be insecure liars? If so, I need to know. I already got that impression from my last job - which talked me out of law school already, by the way - and now I don't want to see another fucking J.D. as long as I live. Except for my dear lawyer friends, Scott and Anne. They're cool as long as I don't work for them, I'm assuming....

Yeah this particular boss not only blames me for her incredible disorganization and fuck-ups, but has told me that she doesn't think I have the "skillset" to perform ministerial admin Microsoft Word work on her contracts. You've got to be freaking kidding me.

Anyway, the absolute last thing I need right now is to be working for someone who not only doesn't recognize my absolute genius (that's a joke) but is constantly criticizing everything I do. My security kite is already flying kind of low, and my antidepressants are going to run out in about 10 days. I miss my old asshole boss. Isn't that terrible?

So I got an email from this woman who I sent a resume to in July. She has left me voicemail after voicemail, desperate for an interview. The job is research - which I think I'm pretty good at, by the way. And I won't be working for an attorney who feels paralegals bring an "advanced Microsoft Word skillset" to the table. You have got to be freaking kidding me. My experience is in analyzing, researching, and creating contracts, not typing them on a freaking doc like some monkey. No offense to those of you out there who are "Advanced" word users.

So pray for me. In my doomsday HR meeting on Friday I was told that I needed to start blowing them away. Or else.

And I'm freaking out about money - my last job took $900 out of my $1500 paycheck, so now I can't pay my mortgage or my car insurance or my phone bill or my power bill or my water bill 0r my gas or my grocery bill or my cable...........

I'm at the point where I'm either going to :

A) Go on a margarita binge. I'm 2 days away from 90 days sobriety, and damn if it wouldn't feel good to get fucked up. My ex-husband is in town, and I'm contemplating getting more methadone from him because I need it.

B) Freaking out and going back to the loony bin, because I'm starting to feel like that's where I belong.

C) Being unemployed for a while, trying to get on some kind of disability so I can buy insulin and pump supplies and antidepressants, and fixing my shattered mental state.

D) Disappearing for a while. I may drop off the kid and take a hike. I need it. I could do some fall hiking up the Appalachian trail. That would be pretty.

E) Going for a run and hurting myself. The only thing that seems to bring me out of my funks anymore is physical pain or drugs.

F) Hanging in here, being miserable, and being a good Microsoft Word typing monkey.

Amen.






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