And Of Course My Opinion Is Different.

'For fuck sake. I have cheekbones, personality and wit. All you have are man tits and a beard. Try to keep things in perspective.'

I'm already practicing what I'm going to say if that hunky cloud of stud atoms comes walking back into my life with anything to say. I can be fierce and nasty if I want to be. I don't always retreat to looking at socks and trying to remember my own name. I can keep my wits about me if I try really really hard.

When I arrived at the work kitchen this morning, however, I was reminded of what I had done, and part of me feels bad for exploring ways of damaging this creature any further. Whatever I did, or whatever I said she just up and left her Campbell's Chunky and didn't even say goodbye. So maybe I should just leave it alone.

But then I remember her little cruisey ass and her little cruisey moves and then those man tits and you don't get man tits like that without spending time in the gym and you don't spend any time in a gym in LA without learning how to cruise guys and that little cloud of mother fucking hotness went and brought that shit into the elevator bay if that motherfucking shit is even possible so there is a limit to my sympathy for that hot ass mother fucker.

Enough if that for now.

My Uber driver said that most of his passengers weren't as interesting as me, you know, capable of carrying on a conversation. I told him that most of my Uber drivers don't speak English so I know where he is coming from.

Yeah. I'm back to Uber. That bus shit lasted a day.

Not At All. We Find It Comforting.

I rode in the clickety clackety peasant barge to Century City this morning. I told myself I was just being a little too precious insisting on an Uber driver picking me up every morning, and now that I see that they appreciate tips this puts a different spin on everything. How many people am I expected to tip just to get me to a fucking job I don't like.

'Here's a little extra thank you for keeping my life going in a steady trajectory of hell no where I want to be?' No.

I'm sure there will be another evacuation or active shooter situation that will make me reevaluate my new found anti-profligacy, but until then I think frugality and sparsity should direct our actions.

The peasant barge was particularly crowded this morning, and I didn't really mind since I had a good place to stand and be jostled about. having to sit at a desk all day I appreciate the opportunity to use my leg muscles one generally only has the opportunity to use while snowboarding or mountain climbing. I was standing rather near the door and a few rough looking housemaids brushed up against me as they tried to exit the bus. I mumbled something like 'Don't touch me peasant filth.', but since I was wearing my new earbuds and listening to a banging Kitsune mix I think I actually shouted it. C'est Mon Vie.

And In A Previous Form We Would Have Forgot.

When the universe decides it wants to fuck with me it certainly doesn't fuck around and it wastes no time. I arrived back at my flat after a murderous day at the office and what was I faced with, no electricity. I had a couple, shall we say, tense conversations with the people at DWP, and they finally surmised their fuck-up and assured me they would fix it. When they would fix it they left up in the air, but fix it soon they said they would so I should just sit tight.

I sat tight. I collapsed and about 3:00 in the morning I started to get really drunk and belligerent and I take getting drunk and belligerent to Dancing With The Stars level if they mess with the PBS line-up on Wednesday.

Whatever happened I managed to waked up in time to go to the office on a Saturday because my life is complete and irrepressible shit, but I managed a couple additional phone calls to DWP. They will regret the day I learned of their emergency response team. Once I'm at work and positively bathed in electricity I get call from DWP and they tell me they are at my place and they have turned the power back on.

Oh, and they are now following me on Twitter because I guess I must have taken my naked drunk belligerence there as well.

Let's Have It.

Is An Object Observed Or Relating.

The Uber driver this morning was absolutely serene. I don't know where he gets it from, but it is from somewhere. We chatted about this and that, about the weather and thus and how it is always amazing here in LA. Once I arrived it was like I was just bathed in a shower of positiveness.

And of course I arrived at the cursed office and my cardy thing wouldn't let me into the suite, but I know better this time than to have a tee-total meltdown. There are better ways to handle these, life's small disappointments; journaling for one. My spell check doesn't think journaling is a word, but trust me it is.

It is disappointing. Bloomingdale's is having a sale, and I'm going to return some things to get some things, and I'm going to apply for something and receive a gift card and at the end of the day I'll come out $14 ahead. And people say you can't make a living out of shopping.... They don't, really.

Feeling A Cold Down And Down.

I can be a pretty small petty bitch. How small, how petty and how bitchy can really depend on circumstances, but something at work today is testing my mettle, and testing it farce. I do not come to work wearing a shirt only to be confronted with someone wearing a shirt from the same designer. I mean I will accept Free City because this is Los Angeles, but that is about the only allowance I will give. I do not care if it is a cheaper shirt, or an uglier shirt, it is a shirt from the same designer that I am wearing and it is on the same day and there has to be someone in HR one contacts about a debacle like this.

There was some question lingering in my mind whether I should buy the Soulland shirt I saw in Bloomies yesterday, but those questions have been blown out the window. I think I was even talking about it with a coworker yesterday not having anything more interesting to discuss at the mo. I bet that little shit overheard so I have to be there as soon as they open which is in 26 minutes so out.

Our Formal Thoughts Particularized.

This morning has been murderous from the start. I stayed up way too late doing things I really should not have been doing, and I really wish to hell I could remember what it was this morning, but there you go.

I've already done the crossword, taken my French lessons and done a shit ton of work, but I still can't find the energy to stay focused. My earbuds are busted and I am actually counting the seconds until the apple store opens because who doesn't want to race to deal with a bunch of smug twats working at a place called the genius bar.

My Uber driver was a former Washington State football player so we had a lot to talk about being from the same part of the country and all. He seemed to know a great deal about what was going on in Seattle. Like I suppose there is a basketball team going to Seattle, but I told this child that he must be mistaken. The people of Seattle would never have that, but then I thought they would never get rid of the Capitol Hill Value Village so what do I know. Seattle and I haven't had a lot to say to one another since the Value Village left the Hill.

Outside of the earbuds I am going to have to invent a whole slew of reasons to go to the mall because the construction workers, and oh mercy, and the thing is, I just can't even so there.

The Stalker Becomes The Stalked.

I had a relatively metaphysical Uber driver this morning. He said a large raven flew past the car and he said that it was a good sign, and that it meant that both of us were going to have a good day. I don't know about him, but after my first two hours in the office I was about ready to pound that raven in the beak.

Then he said something about people in West Hollywood having good souls, and I was like 'Right, this guy needs to check in somewhere with the word Palms in it. 

Once at work I had to work extra hard to hold my shit together. I immediately had computer issues and thinking that the problem would resolve itself if I just went away I grabbed coffee and shot off a nasty email, and made some eyes at some shockingly attractive construction workers. But that kind of business got me in this pickle in the first place so eyes forward.

I'm working with a group of people who, you know what, that's it. They are just a group of people, and the last 4 weeks have been so fucked up I can't even go retro-linear with it. It is going long form though. Writing the first 1000 words took less time than the nasty email I sent off to Wells Fargo. So there you have it. Shit falls apart. I watch it, and I take notes.

Don't Do It Unless You Are Prepared To Be Judged.

There is no getting around it this morning I just put myself into a state. I don't know how I get this way. I think it runs in the family and if you ask my father it runs distinctly on my mother's side, and if you knew my father you would probably agree, but that's not for here.

Like most catastrophic mornings this one started with a frantic search for Chanel, and the This Is Not The Chanel You Are Looking For Game starts in earnest. I just moved and things aren't where they are suppose to be, and I had plenty of time, and by all accounts I still should have still been unconscious in bed.

Uber driver was a bit smelly. I mean I made the effort to wear Chanel Pour Monsieur paired with the necklace I had just finally located in a bijoux pillbox of some expensive variety being somewhere it was never intended to be, and he just hadn't, but that's not for here.

Once at work my plastic cardy thing wouldn't work. I mean it got me into the building, it got me up to my floor, and into my suite, but once I was at my suite proper the door was closed, locked, and my card didn't work. To say that a God Damn Motherfucking Tee-Total Meltdown ensued would be the epitome of understatement

I shot off a nasty email.I resigned my position. I accepted another, I declined another on top of that. I went to get coffee. I came back and the office was open, but I was in such a state at that point I simply gathered up my Wedgwood, tea and tea cozies and bailed. I made it almost to the bus stop, having no longer employment enough to justify Uber when I finally saw sense. And here I am. Back at this shit. Not happy. But enjoying it all the same.

Does The Stereo Define Us.

The Uber driver was new in more ways than one. Not like the Korean gentleman who had driven me to my beloved Avenue of the Stars the two previous morns, but a woman who had never seen me before, and by her demeanor had never seen the Westside before Lord bless her.

They never say anything to me. I never say anything to them. I think they may think I am somebody and because I'm wearing an Organization For The Return Of Fashion Interest hoodie I am, in a very obscure way, quite actually somebody, but they don't know that so I just go ahead and read my Nancy Mitford and go ahead and be taken to the Westside.

Once at Avenue of the Stars everyone is quite decent and no one mentions my most recent total and complete social humiliation which is kind of them in a way, and I make no mention of my plans of leaving the country permanently and everyone seems happy with this arrangement. I don't know if my clients will be please because the number of the people in this joint that can actually hold their shit together is dropping fast. Another thing to be filed away in the folder Not My Fucking Problem.