It's a Meat Process.
Tuesday, May. 11, 2004 @ 11:57 a.m.

Sweet baby Jesus, I'm tired. Last night my mom returned from her vacation and it was my job as dutiful younger daughter to pick her ass up from the airport. Original arrival time: 8:55pm. Actual arrival time: 1:00am. I said Goddamn. Claudia, this means you have to inherit all the gigantic and ugly Victorian furniture when she dies. And all the big sculptures. Ha.

I'm functioning, this morning, in that slo-mo underwater vaguely happy way, where I'm not really awake enough to care about anything. So I figured, what a perfect time to finally get around to updating my damn cobwebby journal.

Topics on deck:

- In Process
- Confusing Sundry's husband
- Treble-scabbed knee
- My new TV obsession

In Process. This is the current cryptic message given to me when I log into the "status" section of the incredibly complicated online job application system for the university where I wish to be employed. About three weeks ago, the message changed to Interview Pending and I bounced around like a monkey for nearly a week until they actually followed up on this and scheduled me for an interview, which went very well, thank you. However, that was two weeks ago and I haven't heard a peep since.

So now, the system is back to the non-committal In Process. I check it every day, praying it doesn't change to the dreaded break-up line: Position Filled, which is what happened with another job I applied for (but didn't interview for). I emailed HR for an update and immediately got a message back that, while extremely nice, was also extremely lacking in helpful information.

Am I the only one who gets mental over stuff like this? I'm going to be pissed off if I get broken up with by a computerized system. I sent a freaking hand-written thank you note! I wore an uncomfortable suit and sat through hours of mindless MS Office testing! The way I see it, I PUT OUT ON THE FIRST DATE. I deserve a phone call or a letter or something!

What I'd really like is, you know, the job but I'm thinking that's not happening if I've heard nothing after two weeks. I was really, really hoping to be out of this Hell Portal before my boss finds out about the rebate check she's not getting. Crud.

**********

Confusing Sundry's husband

I have a few weaknesses. Obvious things like otters, pugs and David Bowie, but also long-term geek things like quoting from the same movie for so long that it becomes part of my psyche. Kenny and I are especially fond of "Raising Arizona" and phrases like "We're set to pop, honey." "Well, O-KAY then." and "Say, that reminds me..." have become such a part of our dialogue that we don't even realize we're doing it anymore.

So when one of my favorite diarists (is that even a word?) Sundry threw out an offhand quote, I threw one back somewhat randomly, and in the process, caused confusion. Hilarious. Even more hilarious is what a dork I am that I was grinning like a hee-haw at getting linked in her journal. Thanks, lady!

You ate sand?

**********

Treble-scabbed knee. Well, there goes my modeling career. My right knee currently looks like it belongs to a 12 year old boy after he wrecked his Stingray. My least favorite thing about mountain biking is what it does to my legs. A few weeks ago I managed to jab the back of my calf into my freaking CHAIN RING, which gave the appearance of being bitten by a half-jawed dog. Pretty! Then a week or so ago, I skidded out and slid through the dirt on my knee, which produced two lovely scabs. Extra pretty, but not enough, apparently, as I skidded out again and landed on the same knee. Three, three, three scabs in one! Are you grossed out yet? Aren't you glad I tell you these things?

**********

My new TV obsession. Much to Kenny's dismay, I have not missed a single second of Bravo's Showbiz Moms & Dads. I'm RIVETED. And saddened. And horrified. Did I mention riveted?

I feel terrible for Emily Tye, the little pageant kid. She's FOUR. FOUR YEARS OLD. SHE SHOULD BE WATCHING MR. ROGERS AND DRINKING APPLE JUICE. Why on earth does a child's pageant have a swimsuit competition? And the spray-on tan? Isn't that all just weird and wrong? Her mother is so horrible and the whole thing smacks of child abuse. Apparently Mrs. Tye is pissed because she'd been told the show would be a positive portrayal of pageants. Earth to Debbie Tye? Have you watched any reality programming? Ever?

I'm "eh" about young Jordan, but at least she and her mother have a healthy-ish relationship.

Dear Mrs. Kligensmith, You are terrifying. Please also burn those white sweatpants. PS. Your son can neither sing nor dance, is not talented, is not cutting a record and IS NOT FAMOUS. Stop embarrassing everyone. Also? It's CONGA line. Not Congo. Jesus.

Pa Nutter? CA-RAZY. I sort of wonder after last night if Ma Nutter isn't a little afraid of him. Maybe he's abusive? He's certainly unhinged. And gay! Gay as the day is long! And yet? seven kids? I'm so very sad for him that his dream of being an Olympic star, for which he started training at the age of 22, didn't come to fruition. So sad, was I, that I rolled right off the couch laughing. Freak. I feel so sorry for those kids.

Who did I miss? Jordan? Damn, what a little man-bitch. That is all.

So there you go, monkeys. That's my lackluster update for the week.

2 chatty monkeys

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