Under pressure

Oh god she’s leaving.

The joy, the thrill of it all! My workplace bane is going off to a new job. Where? Who cares! When? The sooner the better. If I have to suffer with her another two weeks so be it, but since everyone else who has quit has been gone that day, we shall see. Some people are special snowflakes. Or at least, they think they are.

Even though this delightful news is beyond joyous, I fear it is time for me to leave as well. Soon, very soon. So many people have left  in the last few months, and unlike a year ago, when they would be replaced, it’s not happening. Salespeople are always a high turnover, but now it’s just, “Buh bye.” How much longer can they afford to keep the doors open? Who knows. And I’m getting paid such a pittance it really is time to make a change.

But when I do, I simply can’t go on like now. Just hopping from one job to the next may be the way things work in today’s world, but I am at a point where I need some big changes in my life. I have, both physically and metaphorically, some weight to get rid of. I am tired of living my life without intention. Tired of living it in a way that is not pleasing to me. I want a job that HELPS OTHERS, or I don’t want one at all. My job does not define me. It never has. But my job also does not give me happiness. And unless I can do something worthwhile that gives me some modicum of joy, then I give up.

Whoa. That was some deep shit. NEXT!

Mom and I went to see The Great Gatsby last weekend. Mother liked it better than I did. I am not a Baz Luhrmann apologist by any means, but I did enjoy Moulin Rouge. I mean, once you have Jim Broadbent singing “Like a Virgin,” you’ve kind of shot your wad, I guess. And so it goes with Gatsby. May I say that I just don’t love the story that much? Daisy is and always will be a monumental drip. Give me Jordan Baker any day! I once dated a man in the ’90s who was much older than I and told me I reminded him of Lois Chiles when she played her in the 1974 movie. He meant my voice. Because I look nothing like that.

But Elizabeth Debicki stole the movie for me. Or at least her hats did. I was having serious hatgasm.


Dig that vintage Tiffany pin on the beige one. Swoon.

DSC01544And here’s a cloche I made. This is the last one of it’s kind, since I ran out of the yarn and it’s discontinued. And this is a brooch I bargained for at the flea market. I got it for a song. Man, I have to refresh my Etsy page.

But back to Gatsby. Mom really liked Joel Edgerton’s ass. And that’s really all I have left to add. Oh, I do have one more thing: I really feel the costumes of  Theoni Aldredge (or should I say THE OSCAR WINNING DESIGNS) were much more to the period than Catherine Martin’s. If you put Carey Mulligan in a Prada dress, well, I know it’s a Prada dress. There’s no fooling on that one. Maybe because 1974 was closer to 1920something, both the costumes and sets were much more realistic? But then, when does Baz do realism?

Oh, the contradiction of it all!

Listen, things are going weird for me right now. I just got back from the second doctor’s appt. in as many days because my blood pressure is through the roof. Again. I am under a lot of stress, and I put myself under a lot of it. And now with the drama of the queen bee at work (soon to be alleviated) and the fear of losing my job/desire to leave my job, and my husband’s wanting to leave his, I feel very uncertain. Which is maybe why I decided to go to a minor league baseball game on Memorial Day weekend. There’s nothing like the goofy games on the playing field (musical chairs with children, anyone?) to make me happy as a clam. Add a cute vegan guy sitting in front of us (hey! I’m not dead just because I’m married) who chatted with us and this little ginger flirting with me all night, and it was a winner.

575519_10200955578158952_1953505000_nI wanted to write more tonight but I’m tapped out. So I’ll just give you a piece of dialogue I threw down at the game Saturday night:

“Ain’t no night like a cornhole night.”

And that got a laugh from the cute vegan.


Rip her to shreds.

Today on Dental Radio at Work, Christopher Cross came on, as he is wont to. And when he sang about riding like the wind, he sang about how he  was born the son of a lawless man
and always spoke his mind with a gun in his hand, I had to say (mentally, of course) “Really? Because it says on Wikipedia you were an army brat.”

Whenever I hear Christopher Cross, I think of Michael McDonald. And then I think of THIS:

And now you know what I do at work most of the day. When I’m not working. I look things up on an online encyclopedia maintained by drunken college students.

So, things are just fun as ever with Tweedledum and Tweedledummer, and one of them is trying to get on famous reality show (no names, please) and has already declared she is “Not going to be there to make friends!” So I predict when and if she does get on, she’ll be kicked off in a week. But it’s time I don’t have to deal with her, so yay!

Every day is like a moodswing roller coaster, and both of them are medicated, so lots of sexy fun times pour moi. All I do is fantasize about going to England for Christmas, and make packing lists.

(Shhhhh….secretly I am saving money but not telling honey).

Well, this was just a pop in, I am feeling restless tonight, so here’s a photo I made of myself with the FX Camera:


And here is a photo of Keira Knightley’s wedding gown (huh?) because I really like Keira and of course wish I was as skinny, and also because she married a member of The Klaxons, and I fucking LOVE The Klaxons, and also because it is so simple and she recycled the dress, in as much as one CAN recycle a Chanel from Unkle Karl.

USA-AUS ONLY Keira Knightley and James Righton arriving at the Mazan TownAnd here’s a song about how I feel regarding my co-workers:

Bye bye sugar. And not a minute too soon.