Today on Facebook, my old pal Marc wrote, "Hey, has anybody seen my black canvas bag?" and one of this other friends wrote, "No, and I haven't seen your Sweet Gypsy Rose, either." I do not know why this made me snortle like a hyena for the last 15 minutes but it has. You know how those hyenas snortle.
June's blog. Where you come to hear about Facebook.
Anyway, if that weren't enough, now I get to tell you that I'm not going to Hawaii.
I KNOW.
I'm not NEVER going (nice English), but I can't now. I can't afford it. And I know, it's a free trip, right? But I already knew I couldn't afford to put the dogs in day care, so ...friend/Ned was watching them, and even then I only had a few hundred dollars cobbled together for spending money. Then yesterday I said, "I'd better look at my checking account, make sure no scary huge check hasn't cleared or anything."
A scary huge check hasn't cleared. It was my stupid stupid stupid COBRA check for my health insurance. It's like $11,000 a month. Anyway I could have gone, still, but I'd be worried sick about running out of money the whole time AND I'd be completely at zero when I got back, and is that really a good thing to do to myself?
So the deed is done. The person who reads this blog who gave me the trip is rescheduling it, and ironically I'm thinking I'll be better able to go when I have a job.
I'll tell you who was bent out of shape over this was Ned/...friend. Perhaps he was planning a giant kegger at my house with 22-year-old dancing girls or something. 1920 called. Wants the phrase "dancing girls" back. "This is so AWFUL" he kept saying. He was very excited for me, and I was excited for me, but could we all not bemoan this and "June you have to go" this? I can't. Am cash poor right now. Am poor poor right now. Nothing is liquid. I never have any idea what that means.
The bright news is my interview seemed to go well yesterday. Five minutes into the interview, the HR woman leaped up and said, "Let me get someone to meet you." Then I met this other guy who was A DELIGHT, he really was. He told a story about how he has two big dogs, and one day a muddy kitten appeared at his door and why does that never happen to me? Anyway he took the kitten in, not wanting to, and that cat sleeps with the dogs, plays with the dogs, and goes outside with the dogs for pee time. It has no litter box.
It was a good story.
Anyway eventually they introduced me to another guy, who gave me a (wait for it) proofreading test, and after he LOOKED AT IT RIGHT IN FRONT OF ME, and that wasn't nerve-racking at all, he said I did really well and he wasn't able to say, "You're hired" right then and there because they're interviewing 23 people for this job.
%$##*.
TWENTY-THREE PEOPLE. So the even better news is that afterward I went to my car, and the HR woman had said, "I love how your toenail polish matches your bag" which I hadn't even noticed but then I loved me, as well, and anyway the point is there I was in the car and I took a gander at myself, and guess what.
NO. GUESS.
I had two COMPLETELY different earrings on. Completely different. Different. Earrings.
I had NO INTENTION of wearing the red one. I meant to grab the other pearl, and can you effing tell me how I DIDN'T NOTICE I wasn't putting in the other pearl? I'm certain this doesn't matter, because a proofreader isn't supposed to be good with details at all.
Say, has anybody seen my sweet welfare check? I am doomed.
So after telling Ned that I wasn't going to Hawaii, we decided to go eat at the restaurant we had selected as my yay-you're-back place. It's an Italian place near my house and Ned/... had never been there and I said, "Oh, we should go when I get back."
We thought we were HYElarious with the "Welcome back!" "Thanks, let me tell you about my trip!" jokes when all of a sudden Ned said, "There's midcentury modern guy." And honest ENGINE, you guys, there he WAS. Why do I run into this guy everywhere I go? Do you think he's following my every move? Eventually it was just Ned and me and Midcentury man and his date left in the place. We should have gotten a table and played bridge.
Midcentury guy needs to get over me. I am taken. Unless he's rich and can take me to Hawaii all the time or something. Do you think men who own furniture stores are rich?
See. Sadly, even if he WERE following me and even if he threw 12 million dollars at me, I'd still stick with Ned. Because I am smitty smit smitten. I am gross. Do you hate me when I'm this gross? I do. I would so hate me right now.
I had better go. I had my bag all packed and I should unpack. OH MY BAGS ARE PACKED. I'M READY TO GO. TAXI'S WAITING OUTSIDE THE DOOR!
You're welcome. Anyway I was pleased with myself that I had managed to get everything into one (huge) bag.
I threw in some t-shirts and two different earrings and I was ready to go.
