These Times Test You.

I can be a pissy little cunt I'm not going to try to hide it. I'm indulging Big Sad Girl in her fantasy delusion of a fiancé and a life. They went to Disneyland for Father's Day. I didn't ask why, but midway through her description (at no point of which did she actually make eye contact) I started to suspect the reality might be a helluva lot sadder than the fantasy. I did it again. Whoops.

Big Upbeat Girl totally redid her hair, dropped the Latin term 'tabula rasa' which I ignored. Getting a great deal of pleasure not mentioning her new look. They always do it for the attention, and I never feed them. A fed bear is a dead bear as they say in the semi eco-tourism induced wild.

Jewish guy who would seriously have 80% less to talk about if he weren't Jewish is unrelenting. Vacations, sick family members, whatever, I just pretend to not give a fuck, which I don't, and pretend to be actually interested in my work. It vexes him, and his discomfort  nourishes me. Seriously, our interactions may warrant separate treatment in another place.

Like I said, pissy cunt. But I had to put my muffin down after 15 lovely years and I just managed to come into work, an emotional wreck, day after day, and I didn't have a teetotal sharedown with these twits. Can you imagine? Pissy cunt perhaps, but the best and most beautiful part of me is now gone, and I'm frankly surprised I don't reflexively shoot acid out of my eyes every time they open their vapid mouths.

They will flourish in my merciful bounty. Until this case settles anyway.