(lick the end of the pencil)
(stick tongue out)
(adopt thinking position, not to be confused with constipated look even though visually may be the same)
I am in a job that requires ADD. C calls for me while R is emailing me with work while I listen to a conference call while keeping an eye on Bloomberg.
Have you seen ‘Coupling’? Specifically the episode where Patrick keeps trying to go home after canoodling with his girlfriend and refers to a woman who want to snuggle after squelching as a ‘hairy sex octopus with hair and limbs everywhere’?
Right, so this is what is demanded of me. Without the sex bit.
But I am a sexy beast y’know (just throwing out another movie reference, 10 points if you get it)
Another thing I don’t understand is with you i-bankers, how come your models never seem to add up. There’s always one wise ass who has something funky in historicals.
Work had been butchering me over the course of the past three weeks including putting in 12 hours over a weekend when the parental units were in town. Any how, pictures to follow later…
But I think my company does owe me two new shirts. Mine have frayed at the elbows. I’ve never heard of anything like this but it’s ridiculous. Does this in any way tie in to ‘elbow grease’?
Right, so that’s that on the work front. I am trying desperately to get back to India so if any one knows of any openings in private equity or hedge fund, you have a willing grunt here, ready to sacrifice much sleep, sweat and tears to make you money. Yes, I am a sell out and damn proud of it. Now, if they would just give me a t-shirt that says the same (looks around for t-shirt…or cookie)
I skyped with the Ex a few days ago. We made small talk until she blurted out, “I got engaged”
Much appropriate felicitations were given (I can’t stop talking like this, I don’t know why).
While she said she picked out the ring, she expressed a concern that some people may think it too small.
I am always polite but I draw the line at making her feel better about the size of the ring that chappie gave her.
And last weekend she said she would be moving to San Diego (oh come, what the hell do you do in San Diego for petes sake…and who is pete?! Goddamnit, I’m rather floopy today, but I’m back baby!)
Right, so she asked if I would visit her and her fiancé in San Diego:
“You want me, to visit you, at his apartment?”
“Actually, we are staying with his parents”
Anyway, as much as I loved the girl, ‘twas what ‘twas, and never more it shall be.
Though I have to say, the age difference between her and me (if you don’t know what it is, ask…just to ping y’all and see who is curious) was thrown sharply into relief. Look, I will grow up when I have to. I’m still this age and I still want to have fun. Unlike two years ago, I can think about getting married but it still is some point in the future.
She’s going to get engaged engaged in November, move to the US in October…I think we are different levels and it’s a disconnect I can’t fathom
I was in need of a well deserved holiday so I did just that. I took the camera and set off to the Met.
My new favorite artist is Paul Signac.
At least I think it is. Or okay, it’s whoever did this piece:
For the bloody life of me, I can’t figure out who did it. If you know, the please tell me and you can have my first born (though I get all rights to call you Rumpelstiltskin forevermore)
Ah yes, then had a rather interesting red wine with cheese at the Met while the pianist played and I looked down on the people with a beatific smile albeit on a large table much to myself.
There’s a lot more to say on the pieces that I loved but will make a separate post on that
I have been vacillating lately between contentment (see lines above), happiness (under the influence of a rather deep red wine) and an oogy feeling.
I am in need of guilt free guilty indulgences. No Shorty, I don’t mean no-strings sex…(this is where I pause to debate if I wish to elaborate on the topic of bumping uglies and decide against it)
But for instance, I want to get really really pissed without wondering if I will hit on anyone, stumble through the sodden streets of the City, end up worshiping the great Porcelain God (which I havent done in a very long time) or boomed until I can move no mo’
I think it’s the oogy feeling, the restlessness that never left, just abated but washed over me again, inevitable. And I think I may have figured it out.
So you know how the Tolle’s and Dr. Phils say live for the “now” and all that mumbo-jumbo. Right, so what if I have spent every single day for the past 4-5 years trying to get to a point, in fact to such a degree that that point died out a long time ago? So where does that leave me now? And this job-hunt and trying to get back to India, well, I’m doing it again, risking it again for a future that may not even exist.
Oh yes, I totally hear you, but am I going to change that? No, I guess not. I mean it’s hard trying to get there, scrabbling every day and worrying every night. And of course, the inevitable doubt will it be the way I imagined it, as perfect?
Who knows, and what’s more, worrying about it, that isn’t getting me there
But yet, coming back to the first thought, I am in need of excess. As Tom Waits so eloquently put it, “I’d rather have a bottle in front of me than a frontal lobotomy”
Go watch Simpsons
It’s brilliant. Everything from Homer’s plaintive, “Homer do good?” to SpiderPig, all of it, brilliant. If you disagree, come back and we can discuss it in a civil way.
Then, I will jump you in the parking alley and bitch slap you and run away while saying “ha ha” Nelson style
I’m an ass and no woman should date me. Just sleep with me.
Her: i think im snappy because i miss you
me: so you say. Humph. i have reached the conclusion that this is some sort of setup and you are out to trap me. i dunno what your game is, but i see right through it
i'll give you this, it is a ploy worthy of moriarty but unlike holmes, i do not intend to go over a cliff
Her: im here
my sister is watching freaky friday
(a bit flustered at having his damning accusation fall on deaf ears)
Her: and i have a headache
Really, I should have come with a warning label stuck to my ass when I came shooting out. I bet I was a wise ass even then and pee’d the doctor who smacked my bottom to get me to cry. Bitch
Things to look forward to:
1. US Open match tomorrow for free (few few perks of a job that damns me to 14-16 hour days)
2. US Semi-Finals, Mens (not free. Fuck)
3. Four days off this week given it’s Labor Day (ironic given I work at a job that made me sign a waiver giving up my right to a maximum hours per week of work)
Come on, add to my list
Things to fear:
1. folks being in town for those four days which means I can’t sulk or be a bitch. It also means giving up the ciggies and maal and no drunken debauchery that would have inevitably resulted thanks to this 4 day vacation
2. finding a job and soon else my head will pop off from the tension
3. cleaning my apartment, to the Mother’s standards
4. going back to the gym after torturing myself yesterday