No, Captain Obvious, I am so NOT ok.

Oh, ladies and gentlemen, it was a spectacularly crappy day indeed. I’ve been wallowing in a cesspool of self-pity, treading sewage and spitting it back out after I slip under in complete and utter exhaustion, and I hope to make you as miserable as I am. Oh YES I DID.

The Boss made the announcement at the morning meeting that come Friday I’d be taking the last train out of town. There were a few dropped jaws. But Koko raised one eyebrow, and I could be wrong, but I think she was suppressing a smile. The second I walk out the door Friday night she’s probably going to piss all around and on my desk. The new designer will sit down and lower her eyebrows and twitch her nose, but she won’t be able to place that oddly ominous odor. But Koko will smell her fear.

I feel like I’m in a bad dream and can’t wake up. Or maybe just got voted off Survivor. Perhaps more accurately, I am not unlike the girl who doesn’t get a rose and has to leave the mansion in five minutes, and you last see her sobbing uncontrollably and is wailing, “What haaaapppppeeeennnneeddd?!”
*sob*choke*snort*
“I thought he LIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIKED meeeeeee!”
*huge inhale*snert*cough/sob*
“We had such an amazing conneeeeeeeectioooooooonnnn!”
And the last you see of her is a sobbing, drooling, snotting train wreck in a prom dress riding off in the limosine still bawling and ranting, “I’m going to find someone who will appreciate me. It’s his loss and someday he’ll realize and then he’ll be sorry.” And you know she’s just saying that to console herself, and you’re actually embarrassed for her.

Maybe I’m having such a hard time with this because it started out like a happy bedtime story, one that smiles grandly and promises a sugary blissful finis.
*Wayne’s World flashback sound effects*
Right after graduation, I hand-delivered about 30 resume packets around town and the Boss emailed me and said he didn’t have a position open for a designer, but he wanted me to know he thought my resume packet was very impressive. Then he called me and offered me some freelance work for him. Then he said the work was actually like an audition, and I had gotten the starring role. Then after I started, The First Chair told me how much everyone liked me and my work, and about that same time, The Second Chair started circling the drain. I remember thinking, why is she having such a hard time with me? Why would she want to leave this place? I love it here… these are great people etc etc. After she quit/got fired, I moved into her desk, and The First sat in the middle so when the new designer started, she would be able to help both of us easier. (This is the part of the story that you shield the kiddies’ eyes from and cover your own face with your fingers, yet you peek through because you just can’t help it.) The moment the new designer started, The First started being borderline hostile towards me. Why, I don’t know; maybe she just was under too much pressure of babysitting two newbies and had both her twenty-something kids still living at home and leaving their wet towels on the bathroom floor. But whenever I spoke to her, she went all rolling eyeballs and fangs. So I quit talking to her. And asking her questions. And started making mistakes. And Koko started drooling and beating her hairy, lice-ridden chest. And my circle-the-drain dance began. It started out all Good Night Moon, and ended all Legends of the Fall.

And why is it when you have been sobbing uncontrollably and just barely gotten yourself composed and thinking, ok, I can be an adult now, then someone walks in, looks at you, tilts their head, and says, “Are you OK?” This leads you to ruin all your hard work as your face crumples and you lose it all over again. Why does the question “Are you OK?” make you instantly oh-so-not-OK? Three damn times this morning this happened to me. I feel like someone shoved a couple handfuls of sand under my eyelids.

Are you ready to slit your own throat yet? Then my work here is done.
*smacking hands together to get the dust off*
And I’m not even going to apologize for it, either. Oh YES I DID.

Rip it, roll it, and punch it, dude.

Irony and Sarcasm… two great tastes that taste great together.

*unpacking boxes*
*flops down on a stack of bedding*
*pops open a cold one*
It’s Miller Time.

So I’ve moved over here from LiveJournal. I’ll check back in over there periodically, but I live here now, at 42 Wallaby Way, Sydney.

I think the change of scenery will do me well. I’m going to find a lighter voice here. I had quite the teen-angst scene going on over there at LJ, all pseudo-deep and whatnot, and it got to the point where I could barely stand myself. Sorry ’bout that. Gonna try to ease on up on that crap.

For those of you just tuning in, I’m Dory, as dubbed by my hunka-husband when we went to see Finding Nemo in the theater. Dory, the little blue tang fish, came on the screen and The Hunk started laughing… nay, giggling, and said, “It’s you, honey, it’s you! You’re up there on the screen!” And Dory stuck. Within a week, my friends were calling me Dory. Ah, the joys of ADD. You probably couldn’t even begin to believe what The Hunk puts up with, God love him. ADD with a Generous Dollop o’ Crazy, every… single… day.

In other news… I’m fired. I was actually fired not last Friday, but the Friday before. The Boss says that he has never felt so bad about having to let someone go, (of course at the time, my brain was screaming “THEN DON’T, YOU EVIL GARDEN GNOME!”) and that he wanted to give me up to four weeks to find another job AND my parting gift was… a letter of recommendation! Thanks for playing our game! *audience OOOs* So… consequently I feel like Dead Woman Walking. I don’t think any of my co-workers knows, but you know how Rumors and Office politics get along. Like a teeny-bopper and her shiny sequined, hot pink fruffy frou frou trimmed, lime green purse. Except in this case, Rumors and Office Politics are headed off to the 2 day sale at Younkers, MasterCard firmly in hand, their need-to-be-punched pointy little noses high in the air and their beady little eyes darting around trying to figure out how to look down at me whilst aforementioned noses are so high in the air, they are in danger of bleeding. Rumors and Office Politics are absolutely ecstatic that their nefarious plan to remove me from their presence was successful. They’re already deciding who gets custody of the stapler and the pencil sharpener (Rumors gets the stapler and Office Politics gets the pencil sharpener, except Wednesdays and every other weekend, and holidays; in which case they switch). I never blogged about work before because I heard a bunch of horror stories about getting fired because of your blog. Now I’m blogging about getting fired. Huh. Imagine that. Tonight I’ve been actively avoiding working on my resume. Let’s check in and see how I’ve done.

Things I’ve Done Instead Of Working On My Resume:

  1. Erased all the old text messages off my phone
  2. Checked email
  3. Watched people coming and going on my IM list
  4. Looked up the correct spelling for “wallaby”
  5. Watched a couple episodes of Sex in the City
  6. Read each and all the blogs I follow
  7. Started a new blog while watching Finding Nemo for inspiration (bonus points for multi-tasking!)
  8. Tried to figure out if there was a way to rob the Aquarium Screensaver from the Finding Nemo DVD
  9. After much diligent research and some cussing, decided there wasn’t – Yet
  10. Made tacos for dinner
  11. Talked to The Elli Dog regarding my displeasure with her violating the cat (more about the little white tornado that is my undying pride and joy later. And on a side note, damn, I hope she comes out of heat soon.)
  12. Reminisced on the final I took today and again tried to remember more signs that are made with the B handshape (he asked for 7; for the life of me I could only think of 5, and that was reaching. On my tippy-toes with my hamstrings screaming for mercy.)
  13. Overseen the Leaf Cleanup Detail in the backyard (the boys apparently can’t get a job done without me standing on the deck micro-managing.)
  14. Smoking while overseeing the Leaf Cleanup Detail in the backyard (Yes, now I’m reaching to make my list longer.)

Rip it, roll it, and punch it, dude.