First off, I'm addicted to fucking Kerli wasserface, MGMT, and Danny Elfman. I am similarly addicted to the Savage Love Podcast. At least once a day I nearly cough myself to death laughing at the callers. I keep trying to think of something to call about, but all I can think of is "Dan, you're the best. If you ever slip up and want a woman, let's give it whirl!"
Wait, my fave call was today, episode 80-summat. This lesbian calls in and says she stole her best friend's wife and they are soul mates, but it ended the friendship and now she dreams about her best friend. She tried to contact the friend via a mutual friend and the ex-bf got so upset that she ended the friendship with the go-between (disembowel the messenger!) So, Dan's response is...
"Fuck You. You stole this woman's wife and you still want to keep your fucked up emotional meathooks in this woman and she wants to move on with her life. You got the girl and the price you paid was LOSING YOUR BEST FRIEND you whiny, crybaby, codependent asshole! Leave her ALONE."
Yeah, I was in the shower when I heard that and nearly had one of those made-for-tv slip n' falls in the tub. Fist pumping and all that jazz. Where are the g-damn boundaries? People need boundaries.
On an unrelated, but somehow relevant note, I've decided to farm out my life. I suck at work mainly because I'm more interested in the higher-level functions of work - developing and executing strategy - i would rather undergo another surgery with insufficient pain medication than listen to one.more.fucking.patient rifle through a calendar to see if a surgery date "works" for them, or answer another insipid question from my receptionist of questionable intelligence, or put out yet another fire for my scatter-brained boss/boyfriend. I think most people are given too many options, hence my inclusion of this video from Google Speaker's Bureau:
..
So, I'm on elance and letting people bid to do my paperwork. Take it all. I'll fax it, answer the occasional question for clarification purposes and not think about it any more.
Another weird relationship note: I have unwittingly been fueling fantasies. You know, I vowed to be more social, to experience more of life with this new, improved body/life of mine and thus far it's been interesting. This morning I got one of those weird phone calls from someone wracked with guilt over fuckall. I mean...nada, nothing. Wracked with guilt over lunch and a hug. Seriously, I just saw myself as a listening ear and friend for someone who was obviously on a search for something greater than the life he'd constructed. Apparently I was seen as hot, tawdry mistress material. If only people new how totally non-tawdry I am. I mean, my latest-greatest underwear purchase were Hanes bikini briefs and I must say they are a miracle of textile engineering. I love them. I will buy more tomorrow.
All of this exhausted me because I am suspecting that for all the resting and recovering I've done for the past year, I'm not out of the woods. I mean, I'm not actively ill or pained or cleaning sutures, but I'm easily tired and prone to "overdoing" it.
Oh yeah, does anyone know how levi's fit girls with asses? I shall post a link to my new favorite-looking jeans that I might purchase at the end of this week. I'm trying to decide on a size and may have to ask my alterationist to take my measurements, unless my little sister (who has a secret passion for sewing, wtf?) can do it.
http://us.levi.com/product/index.jsp?productId=3152310&cp=2069959.2075212.2075218&parentPage=family
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