the new showtime original series

It is time, my friends, to start blogging yet again. This was not an intentional rhyme. I do this, do this, do this all the time.

I guess my audience is gone but I don’t really need an audience for I have… you know… whatever.

I tried using blogspot but it’s just not as safe as you tee oh dee, you will always be my one and only. ALWAYS. I don’t care about those voicemails you left me saying you were "done" with me. You can’t be "done with me", I decide when it’s over tee oh dee, I mean oh dee, and now is not the time. Jerk.

I got promoted at work yesterday which, for me, is bitter-sweet. Like when a jewish girl gets raped by a doctor. I totally stole that joke. I did get promoted though. I was scooping the eyes of a maltese called Tink, a regular of mine, one in which used to misbehave, thrash and show me his ugly, grotesque teeth, but now he’s good, he stands placid on the table and lets me pull and tug at him until he’s all cute and shit. This is not important, in fact, dogs as a whole are not important and thus is my dellima. So, there I was scooping eyes when my hyperwhite manager entered the salon. This hyperwhite manager is not just a white man, he is a blonde haired blue eyes baby faced piece of aryan perfection. I think he’s horribly unattractive by Hitler would probably orgasm all over his chubby cheeks.

So anyway, he comes in and tells me he has "good news" for me. Right off I think, oh, we made a lot of money last week and he’s going to tell me "good job" or some unnecessary bullshit like that. I finish up the dog and enter his office which is packed with others. two of my grooming comrads, his fiance showing of puppies, a couple of store employees and so I say, "should I come back later?" in which he announces "as of april 8th jaime is now our official grooming salon manager." and I half smile and say something stupid like, "right on".

the room congratulates me except for megan. megan is an evil, evil, vindictive groomer who looks at me with her evil evil vindictive eyes and says things like, "if I was planning on staying here they would have made me manager." which is, ahem, not true for many reasons but this is all beside the point. so, the look on her dumb fucking face when the hyperwhite manager awarded me a raise and TOTAL CONTROL of the salon was no less than fucking priceless.

and so I sit upon a dillema. Though I did accept the position for the sheer fact of more money and control and sexy women all over me, I still cannot seem to get away from the fact that I’m twenty two and doing nothing more with my life than scooping the eyes of malteses with stupid names like tinker toy. and even though I do enjoy my job and bring home a descent paycheck, more often then longing feelings for animals I feel longing feelings of completely oprooting, packing a backpack, and taking a bus to the middle of the nation or the edge of the ocean.

maybe it’s a bad idea to take a position that will only give me another excuse to continue grooming dogs and not, you know, do something ELSE. something better or more purposeful.

and for now, I continue a routine that will lead me to become that one persone: the obese lady who lives alone with a million dogs and brags about what a great grooming talent she is. she has a really decked out myspace page and goes on dates with internet affections who take her to places like Eatza Pizza.

Jane just called in a panic and told me she’d pay me seventy dollars for a five page research paper. Maybe I should quit grooming all together to be a full time student for jane.