Sigh. I've been thinking about the huggy teens all day; that was totally and completely my high school experience as a theater geek. Tons of hugging at the beginning of every class, every day. And, really, it was...kind of nice.
For every one of us who was a calm cool well-adjusted Sam Rockwell, all character-actor handsome and also friends with the regular kids and dating a cheerleader and all, there were about fifty of, well, me, and everyone like me. All the overly bookish weirdos who were eerily good onstage because we'd spent so much time silently observing everyone and everything. We were all giddy at being in a place where being like us was cool and desirable, but still horribly nervous and validation-seeking and oh, we craved the giant dorky comforting mutual fanclub hugginess of it.
And, damn, now I'm sort of missing it. They were all (mostly all) good, funny, smart, Buffista-ish people, and it felt nice to have regular infusions of affectionate physical contact. Even now, married and all, there are occasional days when work and Matilda have thrown such a spanner in everyone's sleep schedules that Hec and I barely have enough simultaneous consciousness and proximity to hold hands for a moment. I'd happily trade a year's supply of chocolate for, say, four good solid hugs a day.
I love my house. Even as I view possible new water damage (that I think my caulking and grouting adventure alleviated, crossed fingers.) I'd hug my house. I'm still stunned how much it is mine.
It took me a week to figure out the term I needed for google was splash guard...
hahahahha! Bailey!
"If that doesn't work, you're going to pull out the I was raised out back with the trash can roots and beat the crap out of him!"
My love Bailey doesn't diminish.
So, at work this afternoon, a higher-up called me over to talk and started out with, "I'm afraid we're going to have to let you go." Pause, then smile. "Not really." I think he thought he was being funny. I was too stunned at the time to react, but now I'm feeling the slow burn building. Not a joking matter!
Your boss is Michael Scott!
Jesse, it's Xpress Spa in McCarren. It's a pretty full service chain. All airports should be required to have them.
So, at work this afternoon, a higher-up called me over to talk and started out with, "I'm afraid we're going to have to let you go." Pause, then smile. "Not really." I think he thought he was being funny. I was too stunned at the time to react, but now I'm feeling the slow burn building. Not a joking matter!
WTF!?! Do you have an HR department? I would so totally report that.
dcp, that is so not funny! Especially in this horrific economy--but really in ANY situation, uncalled for and I'd call HR on his ass.
My apologies to everyone. The bad mood is much more under control now. Sometimes the kids' bedtime routine can be good for soothing me too.
Speaking of? Allyson's dolly story is very sweet.
