Love is a Tapeworm
Right off the bat, I’d like to just throw in a nice (and totally shameless) plug for that rarely updated fictional pursuits diary of mine. As promised last time around, the Dave and Shera collaboration for her theater class is up and ready to be read….if you dare. Find part one right ‘chere.
Now that I’ve gotten that out of the way… Onward!
I love how the people above me at work are the most complete and utter nutless wonders I’ve ever seen. The top two people in charge (store manager, operations manager) have not once come to ask me about my hopefully impending leaving. Nevermind that they’ve heard all about it secondhand, and nevermind that they’ve already got me training my own replacement. So much for my wanting to actually know if I was leaving or not before letting them know, huh? Now it’s just assumed I’m out the door ASAP. At this point, I’m quite content to let them think I won’t tell them when I’m leaving because neither of them have had enough balls to come to me and ask me if any of it is true. As far as they know from me, I’m not leaving at all. Because they just haven’t bothered to ask. Bunch of fucking pussies, I swear. And these are two men, no less. The only people with any balls in that place are female, I swear to Christ. But, hey, whatever. I’m content to train my replacement, let him take over, and spend my remaining time just fucking around, helping whomever I please get their work done. Specifically, the people they shit on for no reason at all. And just you wait until my exit interview. Oh, man that’ll be sweet. I’m salivating for that at this point, pretty much. Rip some people new arses, I will. Fantastic!
Oh, and let me not forget to mention that the person I’m training to replace me is a complete and utter douche that no one likes and has zero real people skills and is annoying as fuck. Nevermind his "dumber than a box of rocks"-ness. Yep….fun times. But, hey…the ‘tard was handpicked by the jerkwater that ratted me out (and that was someone I never, ever expected, too, which just shakes my faith in people, lemme tell you). What the fuck do I care? It’s their funeral. And I’ll train the moron just fine. Much better than anyone ever bothered to train me. That’s just the kind of guy I am. Sometimes.
Now Playing in Dave’s Mental Jukebox: "Dance With the Devil" by Breaking Benjamin, "Metro" by The Vincent Black Shadow, and "Pain" by Three Days Grace
Thursday of last week, I finally broke down and bought a bathroom scale so I could see, exactly, how much weight I’ve lost recently. Everyone tells me it’s really noticeable (and after seeing some pictures Shera had with her that day…..I agree wholeheartedly that it’s a lot of weight), so I figured it was time to put a number to it. Stepped up on the scale and it said to me: exactly 200 pounds. That, my dear friends, is a loss of roughly 25 pounds in a mere few months. Everyone asks me what it is that I’ve done to lose it, and I haven’t done anything differently at all. The more I thought about it, the more I realized what it was that this mass weight loss had in common with the last one, which led me to my conclusion that, as the title of this entry says…..
Love is a tapeworm.
If we’ll all think back to the last time I lost a bunch of weight, it was during my junior year of college. And what was happening around then? I was falling in love with Monica. This time? The weight started to fall off of me as I was falling in love with Shera. Coincedence? Most likely. But a fun theory nonetheless. I know for a fact what it was that made me lose weight in 2000. It was eating a lot less and walking my ass off to get to classes on opposite sides of campus on time. This time, though, it really is far more mysterious. I’ve started to eat slightly less, but not enough to drop 25 lbs. I haven’t increased my physical activity (if anything, it has lessened a little). So I don’t get it. I really think the relationship, for all the things it has been over these last few months, has had a lot to do with it. Perhaps one of life’s great mysteries. Whatever.
I’ve had a formless, wordless creative urge in the pit of my brain tonight. I can’t make it come out. There’s just been the urge to write…….something. It just won’t quite form an idea or anything. It’s actually driving me quite insane right now. Stupid voice! Say something meaningful, will ya?!
And the show has reached a new low…
Perhaps I should try to reclaim what little dignity I have left by making a nice, speedy retreat into the bowels of….something…else. Yeah….no dignity being reclaimed here. How about I just try to make sure I don’t trip on the way out? I go!
::trips on the way out::
God damn it! (Sorry…just couldn’t resist the temptation).
Sayonara.