Just like the old days

Ah, the nostalgia – people bitching at me for lack of updates. Yes, I’m looking at you, Liz.

However, it works, so hello! I had work to do last week! I bitch about having nothing to do, but once in a while my famine turns to feast and then I have to do a million clusterfucks in one day. On Friday I and two of my colleagues had to do a very onerous task, which made something possible for a ton of executives and it was boring yet anxiety producing and took forever, and then the head guy in charge, at the end, thanked everyone except his high school drama teacher and left us out. That kind of shit makes me so mad. I bitched to my boss about it this morning, and he is SUCH A POSITIVE AND CHEERFUL FUCKING SORT, I just can’t abide this guy, and anyway he was like all, “*I* appreciate you so much! *I* couldn’t have done this without, thank you so much.” And I’m like psshhhshshs I don’t care about YOU, you goddamned happy fucking bright-sider.

I mean, okay I didn’t say it, but I’m an asshole for thinking it. I guess. I don’t really care any more if I am an asshole, unless it’s to my kids or husband. And my husband would probably say that I’m an asshole to him quite frequently and so on the occasion of this Valentine’s Day, I want to announce that I regret every single time I’m an asshole to my husband. Put that on a card. “I regret that I am an asshole to you frequently.” *Opens card* “Happy Valentine’s Day I Guess.”

Wasn’t there some old school blogger who would do funny valentines every year? Was it Sundry? Oy, that hot mess. But I did like the valentines. She was a real waste of potential.

So here’s a question. Here’s a picture on the corner of my desk where I put my work knickknacks. My question is this. I need a picture of my other child, because I love them equally, but how do you get a 28-year-old man to get you a picture you can frame? I mean, sure, I could ask him, but I have a strong feeling, after knowing him these 28 years, that he will be all, “Mom.”

I have acquired a thing about turtles, since we last spoke. Not really turtles, though, tortoises, but people give me turtle stuff too and that’s nice.

I have pictures of Elliot from his senior year and stuff, but that was 10 years ago and he looks significantly different now. I’m just going to ask him to take a fucking selfie and I’m going to frame it.

The pink thing is actually a bobble head that runs on solar power, and I have had it for SO LONG. I think I told the story of what it means and why I haul it around to all my jobs, so I won’t bore you with that, but I’m saying, I bought it for $2.98 at Target SEVENTEEN years ago. I broke it a little last year, who knows how, and it got fixed somehow, I want to say I fixed it myself, but I know I didn’t, so Tim must have glued it but I don’t remember that, just like I don’t remember the last two years very well. I was talking to Holly this weekend about how old our dogs are and she was looking at her instagram and she said (I can’t remember this exactly either, Jesus Christ) something like “We got Winston in 2012 so he’s 10” and I full on scoffed and said, “It’s 2020! He’s 8!”

If everyone else in the world hadn’t lost track of time in the last two, three whatever years, I’d be worried I was taking after my father.

Also, comment on this shit! Interact with me! Tell your friends! God, you guys aren’t living up to your end of the bargain either!


  1. Sundry is blogging a litttle again – sundrymourning dot com
    One of those “thanks everyone except the person who actually carried the load” was the last straw that made me decide to retire. Literally our entire office staff except me left one summer during some reorganization. I single-handedly got our department up and running for fall semester and in the welcome back email our chair thanked everyone for patience and said what a crazy learning experience it had been for him and didn’t mention me. But thank god we had managed to hire an office admin starting in October. Still took me over a year to get out because I kept trying to make it good or find another good position but in the end I couldn’t handle being treated like furniture anymore.

  2. I have a turtle thing TOO! I have a turtle tattoo even. People give me turtle stuff and Hello Kitty stuff and purple stuff and shower gel all the time and I LOVE it.

    And fuck a bag of bosses who don’t thank the right people.

  3. My son is … JESUS CHRIST HE’S GOING TO BE 34??? and I have no current pictures of him. My daughter was in a couple of weddings about five or seven or I DON’T KNOW/CARE years ago (one bride is already divorced and remarried and pregnant; don’t get me started on THAT*) so those pictures are the most current I have of her. Let’s blame COVID. Fucking COVID, man.

    I don’t know the story of the pink desk item. Insert pout here.

    “That hot mess.” I hope she doesn’t read you. What am I saying? I’d LOVE THAT.

    *Not that the original marriage didn’t work, but the new wedding during COVID. That whole arm of the family and their COVID weddings … I said don’t get me started.

    Also the memory thing freaks me out all the time. AND I AM SO GLAD YOU ARE WRITING AGAIN!

  5. Fuck if I know how to get good pics of your kid. Unless you maybe book a family photo session (all these house ladies near me with expensive cameras do “mini sessions” – 30 min for $50) but tell the photographer to concentrate on the kids. And even then.

  6. My “kid” is 34 and not a taker of selfies, so I steal group shots off his FB page, crop them, print them at Walgreens, and frame them. Poof! Kid pics.

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