So I went and got my hair did this morning. It is short. Like, I don't know, short. Which is what I asked for, but nonetheless, I think I'll like it better in a couple of weeks after it's grown out a little bit. Did I mention that I went to a black salon? I walked in and the receptionist was like, "Can I help you?" and then when he realized I was actually there to get my hair did, he was all like, "Oh. Oh. Um, please have a seat," and I'm wondering if he was thinking "My bad" or "What the hell is she trying to prove?" And either way, whatever. Does nobody know about miscegenation?
Anyway, I did accomplish my stated goal, so one tiny thing can get checked off my never-ending, monstrously unwieldy, ever-pullulating "To Do" list, which I no longer even bother to write down as I would get depressed before I even started.
Don't Go Breaking My Heart
Speaking of depressed, Viva and I spent a lovely late afternoon/evening at my friend C's house yesterday. C is not depressed, but I am, because her husband got a new job and they are moving to Noo Yawk next month. I like C very much. Our girls are about the same age and take ballet together, and when we get together we gab like there is no tomorrow, and I'm bummed that she's not going to be around. She says she wants to move back to L.A. in a couple of years, but I have the feeling once she gets to New York and settles in, she will really like it there...and may never return! Of course, her mom is in California, so they will be coming back to visit, but I am still bummed. I have nothing funny to say about it. Sorry.
I'm looking for a job now. Sorry to spring it on you like this, but that's what's happening. In less than two weeks, we will be sending Viva to school full-time, and that means Mama Blah has to get up off her ass and bring home some bacon.
Since I need some fairly steady income, it looks like I will no longer be freelancing. And you know what that means: the dreaded office job. (Cue scary music and terrified screams.)
It's not the end of the world, but it is the end of an era. I will miss spending so much time with Viva. Yesterday, I bought her a little ladybug lunchbox. A lunchbox! What the hell is that! And today someone outside her current preschool screamed across the street to me about how cute my baby was and wanted to know how old she was. She said she looked like she was only about a year old. Like I'm already not freaked out enough about sending my precious lamb to school for 8 hours.
And I'm not looking forward to going back to an office. But hello, welcome to the world. It sucks, but hopefully not this much:
Peter: So I was sitting in my cubicle today, and I realized, ever since I started working, every single day of my life has been worse than the day before it. So that means that every single day that you see me, that's on the worst day of my life.
Dr. Swanson: What about today? Is today the worst day of your life?
Dr. Swanson: Wow, that's messed up. *
*This dialogue, of course, is courtesy of the classic "there is no hope" work movie, Office Space.
You Can Take the Man out of Boston...
But you can't take the RAGE out of Dude. My next-door neighbor, Dude, native of Boston (where, as you know, they are filled with rage), former stripper/model/drug procurer, has not worked a "job" job in 10 years. I hope you're sitting down, because he just got a job. As in, someplace where he has to go on a regular basis and spend several hours and get a paycheck. Okay, okay, I can't stand it: he is working in cosmetics. There, I said it. And right now, he is screaming and cussing (and has been for about 30 minutes) on the phone and I'm hoping he hasn't lost his job already. Because I am really rooting for him to work his shit out.
Kind of funny, yet sad (an ongoing theme in my posts, let's analyze that another time): his wife really wants a baby and they've been trying to have one for quite some time. She was actually taking fertility drugs at one point. Sweet William finally pointed out to Dude that perhaps he should get his sperm motility tested, because as I've mentioned before, Dude smokes pot pretty much all day long, and that can mess with your fertility. What's funny/sad about this is that it had not even occurred to Dude that this might be an issue.
Oh bla dee, oh bla dah, life goes on...
I wish I had some microwave popcorn right now. So bad. Gotta go. Muchos smoochos!