Poof! Gone!
Wrote up a post and now it's gone.
Don't ask me what I hit.
So, now I start from scratch.
You ever wonder if things happen for a reason? I mean, does that apply to small things, too?
Someone was telling me on Saturday night that I need to have a little more faith that things would work themselves out and that everything that's meant to happen will eventually happen --- and if they don't, then maybe they weren't meant to be.
I couldn't help wondering if she'd been watching one too many Oprah episodes.
I'm feeling sick.
I just want to crawl under the covers and just sleep.
The only upside of being sick is not being able to smell anything. There's this guy in the office who has "jungle animal breath" (not my words). On the one hand, you kinda feel bad for him 'cause every time he comes around, people hold their breath and as soon as he's gone, there's this collective whoosh as everybody starts breathing again.
The minute he's gone, we all turn to each other with looks like, "What the hell?"
Such foulness has never been smelt before.
I suggested leaving an anonymous note --- a public service kind of thing --- to let him know the whole office was bothered by it.
The perverse side of me wants to make the new team lead deal with it.
God. Can you imagine how uncomfortable it'd be to have to sit down and talk to someone about how bad they smell?
Personally, I don't think I'd have a problem with it.
But then again, I'm starting to feel like I have a lump of coal where my heart used to be.
In other insignificant news, I've stopped writing in the other blog.
I just don't have patience for idiots who leave asinine comments on it. I can't stop the guys from reading it or commenting on it, but I can stop writing in it.
What is it with me and weird guys who somehow find my journals?
Jumping to another tangent now, there's this guy at work who's like the gay, male version of me. Or rather, the me that I've become after 28 years of disappointment, failure and heartache.
There's just something about lost souls who are bitter and bored with life --- you can see it in their eyes. They feel the way you feel.
You know...I used to think it'd be nice if someone would come along and tell me with great assurance that everything in my life would be okay.
But if that happened now, I don't know if I'd really believe it.
Wrote up a post and now it's gone.
Don't ask me what I hit.
So, now I start from scratch.
You ever wonder if things happen for a reason? I mean, does that apply to small things, too?
Someone was telling me on Saturday night that I need to have a little more faith that things would work themselves out and that everything that's meant to happen will eventually happen --- and if they don't, then maybe they weren't meant to be.
I couldn't help wondering if she'd been watching one too many Oprah episodes.
I'm feeling sick.
I just want to crawl under the covers and just sleep.
The only upside of being sick is not being able to smell anything. There's this guy in the office who has "jungle animal breath" (not my words). On the one hand, you kinda feel bad for him 'cause every time he comes around, people hold their breath and as soon as he's gone, there's this collective whoosh as everybody starts breathing again.
The minute he's gone, we all turn to each other with looks like, "What the hell?"
Such foulness has never been smelt before.
I suggested leaving an anonymous note --- a public service kind of thing --- to let him know the whole office was bothered by it.
The perverse side of me wants to make the new team lead deal with it.
God. Can you imagine how uncomfortable it'd be to have to sit down and talk to someone about how bad they smell?
Personally, I don't think I'd have a problem with it.
But then again, I'm starting to feel like I have a lump of coal where my heart used to be.
In other insignificant news, I've stopped writing in the other blog.
I just don't have patience for idiots who leave asinine comments on it. I can't stop the guys from reading it or commenting on it, but I can stop writing in it.
What is it with me and weird guys who somehow find my journals?
Jumping to another tangent now, there's this guy at work who's like the gay, male version of me. Or rather, the me that I've become after 28 years of disappointment, failure and heartache.
There's just something about lost souls who are bitter and bored with life --- you can see it in their eyes. They feel the way you feel.
You know...I used to think it'd be nice if someone would come along and tell me with great assurance that everything in my life would be okay.
But if that happened now, I don't know if I'd really believe it.
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