Oh, and welcome to flashing reds. The cat is weary of me running on about things.
The weekend was fine, thanks. Not grand, but okay. After all, there was a bridal shower, and you know how we feel about showers. The point of a bridal shower game seems to be to make attendees feel stupid. No, I do not know my cousin�s fianc�e�s favorite movie, her real hair color, her favorite brand of taco sauce, etc. I now know the name of her newest granddaughter, but we needn�t go there. I do not play along well; I�m just there to give a nice gift, drink some frothy punch, inadvertently grind party cake into the carpet, spill on my dress, and get on the road and back home in time to go play with my friends for the night.
I could have done without Grandpa asking when I would be having my shower or Grandma asking why I hadn�t been to Chicago in months. Then she tacked on some remark about me showing too much cleavage. Is this the part where I�m grateful to be in the bosom of the family?
Grandma B., on the other hand, thinks I�m doing a great job with my life. I cruised over to her apartment in the old folks' high rise to run errands for her and entertain her. In addition to the lecture on why it�s hell getting old, Grandma told me she�s proud of me for getting an education and making such great decisions about my life. I decided not to press my luck and ask just which decisions were supposedly impressive, and we sure didn�t review my history of colleges and majors.
But I am a high-powered publishing professional, and don�t you forget it.
On that topic, I firmly believe I should always be the most qualified applicant for any job I want. I rock. So never again do I want to have a message that says �the train has kind of left the station,� �(s)orry to have raised your expectations briefly, only to shut the window,� or �I would like to leave it open a crack.� Are we clear on that? And if you�re rejecting me, please have the consideration to not use tacky metaphors. Even if you�re a headhunter. It reflects poorly upon all involved.
A word I do not like: gynopoetic.
One more thing�I�m now officially on the Sonic Cherry Limeade bandwagon. Probably the last person on earth, or even in central IL, but I�m there. Meet me at the Sonic later. And in the meantime, can somebody take charge of checking my non-work e-mail? I�d hate to miss any nibbles from all those r�sum�s I�ve been sending out.