2008-01-23
That's "MISS Crankypants" to you...
Ask me how stoked I am about having to work this Saturday to ensure that our server upgrade went smoothly.
Go ahead. Ask.
I am the Mayor of Bitter City, population: one.
You may also call me "Crankypants."
UPDATE: I was kind of ridiculously put-out by this a couple of hours ago, so I went to a meeting. I raised my hand and told on myself, admitted that I was being a big spoiled baby and a bit of a stupidhead. This particular meeting has five minutes of "meditation" tacked onto the end. Someone kills the lights, and we all sit in the dark in this little library on the third floor of this church on Newbury Street, all of us big spoiled babies just trying to remember to be grateful.
I'm usually not very good at that five minutes of being still. But for some reason tonight I was able to glom onto the people in the room, be genuinely grateful that they were there, and let the rest of the shit go. And I walked to the subway with my friend Alan, who asked me to speak to a bunch of newcomers at a morning meeting in a couple of weeks, and I went home and had dinner and felt pretty....well....as close to "serene" as I'm able to get, really.
And then just now, I tweezed out two chin whiskers and wailed at myself in the mirror: "HOW did I become such a fucking hellacious SHE-BEAST?!"
I'm such a goddamn work in progress.
lisamcc at 9:25 p.m.
1 comments so far
Jess
2008-01-30 21:55:21
Be lucky it was only TWO hairs, Irish-Girl! I made Pibb promise me to hire someone to "take care of me" if I ever go into a coma. What I meant by "take care of me" was: "tweeze the 5 or 6 hairs that do not belong on my face every week or two." And exfoliate & moisterize me. That's all I ask. I don't think that's too much. OK, I'd like my roots done too.
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Stumble It!
