Thursday, November 30, 2006
( 3:23 PM ) Rebecca
Oh my gosh but I am TIRED. Very thankful, of course, that no plane crashes occurred. But you know how it is when you arrive back home after a sun-splashed vaction, sleep deprived and smelling like an airplane back in the cold gray gloom. Can you say anticlimactic?
Yeah, it's like that. But let's dwell on the positive shall we? My vacation for one. Superb! For 3.5 days, I did nothing but sit under a palapa in the 80-degree sunshine, plow through books, drink Pacificos and margaritas, swim in the oh-so-warm Pacific waters, snorkel, eat, sleep, and prance about in my new pink bikini - which I put on as soon as I got up and didn't remove until dinner time.
Yeah. It was like THAT. I did not receive any marriage proposals on this particular trip to Latin America, however, my newfound (and might I add, deeply spiritually satisfying) celibacy was, most surprisingly, put to the test when, after my Mexico idyll, I went deep into Bay Area suburbia to visit my family. The last thing I expect to encounter into my hometown is an XXXtra hot guy to kiss, but that is exactly what I found there. XXX! (This, along with one-year old twins who have no respect for aunts that stay out late on dates and start screaming at 7 in the morning, account for my sleep deprivation).
Making it all the more anticlimactic to return home to the gloom where there is absolutely no one to kiss and I will once again embrace my aloneness as my good looks ebb slowly away.
However, I have taken a shower and washed the plane smell off and put on a sparkly barette and now I get to go do some glamorous author events and I'm still on vacation whereas if they hadn't booted me out of my job I would be SLAVING over my computer right now, my looks draining away even faster as I tried to meet a December 1 deadline; meanwhile all my poor coworkers are doing my work for me.
I feel so awful about that. As you can tell.
E-mail Breakup Babe
Tuesday, November 21, 2006
( 6:53 PM ) Rebecca
So OK. I have no Hope. No crushes. No possibilities. No nothing. There was some Hope, briefly, in the form of Hallway Crushes and old friendships that seemed headed for something more, but I quit my job and that flirty friendship proved itself a spectacularly dead end, but it is OK because I DON’T WANT A FUCKING BOYFRIEND, HAVEN'T WE ESTABLISHED THAT ALREADY?
Oh sure it would be nice to have someone to warm me up on these cold rainy nights, but I have a friggin’ down comforter. I also have books, my most loyal bedtime companions, who don’t fart and don’t snore, and don’t wake you up with their squiggling around, and while they might not kiss you, they also don’t leave you until you are done with THEM.
Yeah, some hot s*x wouldn’t be so bad either, but uh, well, The Magic Wand is still cranking away after 12 years. It is making some funny noises lately, so let’s please hope I do not die in a vibrator-related accident (which I guess would be a fitting way for Breakup Babe to die, and better than some other deaths I could think of, but still). I would say I’ve gotten the most bang for my buck out of that thing than any other purchase I’ve ever made, HA HA HA.
Let’s see it would also be nice to have someone to talk me out of my neurotic moments but GalPal #1 is readily available by phone these days, and alcohol and peopl to hang out with are pretty easy to come by.
Plus, in my situation, you learn to appreciate the small things. Like devilishly handsome baristas who puts many hearts in the foam on your latte, and when he presents it to you says, “I’ve never seen so many hearts in one cup.” Whoo. I’m sure every woman who walks into that coffee shop is in love with that barista and I can SEE WHY. He should be aware that I tend to put cute baristas in novels, however.
Other good things. Male Yoga instructors. They are inevitably hot, and it is especially nice when they come around and make “adjustments” to you during your poses. The only unfortunate thing is when your workout garments smell horrible, which mine do most of the time because let’s say, washing my workout clothes is not my forte. Nor is taking a shower which may explain the lack of a boyfriend, not that I want one, but never mind about that…
So I’m going to Mexico on Thursday. It’s unlikely I’ll blog from there but you never know. I’ll probably be too busy getting a tan. Or something. It will nice to see sunshine again as the rain has been absolutely torrential and non-stop here. Not that I’m complaining, mind you. I heart the rain. All’s I’m saying is it’ll be nice step outside in a teeny little bikiniand not a sweater jacket scarf hat gloves that takes me 15 minutes just to put on and off.
So if I don’t talk to you, have a good Thanksgiving. If my plane crashes, and I never talk to you again, well, I'm sure my family will publish all my old journals and those should keep you bored out of your mind for the next few years or until you forget about me, whichever comes first.
E-mail Breakup Babe
Sunday, November 19, 2006
( 8:17 PM ) Rebecca
Sooooo. It has been an interesting week. I shall summarize.
1)Quit job. Gave two weeks notice.
2)Came in next day and was told, no need to work two more weeks (never mind that your fellow employees will be saddled with all your work that you could have wrapped up had you stayed), here's two weeks severance and please pack up all your sh*t and get out. NOW.
After the original shock wore off, I was all too happy to take the paid vacation and skeedaddle; after all the whole reason I quit was because there was too much damn work to do and I could never get a handle on it because I just like having a life too much. I did, however, adore the majority of my coworkers and felt horrible leaving them with my work since they have far too much of their own; however if certain corporations want to punish their loyal employees that way, so be it.
The next day when I came to collect the rest of my belongings, which were nicely boxed up for me and left in a neutral area where I would not have to come in and see and be seen by my old coworkers because God knows what could have happened THEN, everything went off without incident until I got off the elevator and was about to make an escape to my car when I saw my boss's boss getting in. The nicest person in the world really, and one whom I felt horribly about disappointing, and, because there were supposedly "no hard feelings" in this whole thing (they said!), I looked over at her, prepared to offer a friendly smile, only to find her avoiding my eyes and pretending I didn't exist.
Which I guess I don't anymore. End of story.
Oh, except I was thus left computerless for a few days, since I'd been relying on the company laptop (as my own had expired some time agao) and that, as you can imagine, was a rude shock to my system. Not having a husband of my own, Odious Woman kindly allowed me to Rent-a-Husband from her to help me shop for my laptop. Husbands who consider Fry's their "church" are extremely valuable, and when they are as fun to hang out with as her husband, well, it was worth every penny of the $10 lunch I bought him for helping me navigate the treacherous world of extended warranties and RAM.
So, anyway, back to the boring topic of work, I'm going back to Geeksoft for a bit on a nice, cushy contract that will once again give me room to breathe and think and catch up on my damn sleep.
Meanwhile. My love life. Ha ha ha ha. It is soooooo steamy I can't even tell you about it! Hot hot hot. Yeah. This is how exciting it is. I thought I saw my old boyfriend the other day and I freaked out!
Whoo. I can hardly stand it, people.
I don't want a boyfriend now anyway. Got that. NO. WANT. BOYFRIEND. ME NEED RECOVER FROM BOYFRIENDS.
So stop asking me on dates. All of you. Sheesh.
E-mail Breakup Babe
Wednesday, November 15, 2006
( 11:04 AM ) Rebecca
Hear ye, hear ye, anyone living near the fair town of Renton, Washington, should come drink cosmos with me and listen to me babble about my book tomorrow night. I answer any and all kinds of questions, you know.
Breakup Babe, who are you dating now? Ooh, don’t you wish you knew! BreakupBabe, what is your next book about? Ooh, I can’t talk about that! BreakupBabe, why have you been spending so much time in bed reading Nora Roberts novels and crying a lot? Because I know I’ll never find love as true as the love that Nora’s heroines find! And finally, BB, what are you most excited about at the moment! I am most excited about the fact that in one week I’m going to Zihuatanejo, Mexico, where I can sit my a*s down on the beach in my pretty new pink bikini, bake in the sun, snorkel with fishies, and let the last exhausting terrifying exhilarating overwhelming six months slip through my fingers like so many grains of hot sand.
Shoot. Now I’ve told you everything we’re going to talk about tomorrow night and you aren’t going to come ARE YOU?
Aw hell, that’s OK. I don’t care whether or not you support me in my star-studded, alcohol-spiked, supermall soaked tour of South Puget Sound. It’s YOUR LOSS.
In other news, there is both a little and a lot. Major upheaval is occurring that I am not quite at liberty to disclose. Suffice it to say I am spending a lot of time in bed reading trashy novels and trying to recover from all this chaos. I have embraced my misery whereas a few weeks ago I was trying to push it away. By embracing it, I will get through it faster. Meanwhile, I don’t even have the energy to chase boys around so unless the Hallway Crush gets his sh*t together and pounces upon me in the hallway, he’s fast losing his little window of opportunity. Quel dommage.
One thing I certainly cannot complain about right now is the rain. There is lots and lots of rain. Which is bad for people living in floodplains but good for melancholy types like me.
Over and out.
E-mail Breakup Babe
Tuesday, November 07, 2006
( 8:47 AM ) Rebecca
Yours truly is not in her finest form.
For one, where I used to have an iron immune system, I currently get every cold that goes around. Maybe it’s because I ride the bus to work now, filled to the brim on these rainy days with coughing, ranting, sneezing people.
Or maybe it’s the stress of my job. I can honestly say I have never had a stressful job until now. Unless you count my job right out of college in a place I call Hell’s Butthole (a name I stole from a coworker), where I worked for two fallen angels doomed forever to be secretaries, and who wreaked their vengeance upon me.
My current job is not Hell’s Butthole. In fact, if you had told me, when I was stewing in the pits of Hell’s Butthole (which was, of course, located in a basement), that I would one day have the job I have now, I would have slavered and pulled at my tether and begged you to let me have it. I wanted a hip job with well-dressed coworkers and a view, one-preferably-where I got to hobnob with the literati.
Well, I’ve got it! (Plus, of course, I am the literati, and I hobnob with myself all the time.) It also seems to be killing me, but never mind about that for the moment.
There has been absolutely no progress on the Hallway Crush front. My hallway crush, while he does take notice of me, does not love me in the same way that I love him. I fear for our unborn children. It’s only Monday, however. The week is young. If only he would get in the elevator at the same time as me, we might say something beyond “hi!” But he never does! Why?!! Why is he AVOIDING me this way? Does he think I’m DESPERATE or something?!
If only H.C. knew what a good time I could show him right about now. Yessir. I’m BORED. And I’m LONELY. However, even without the help of General Celexa, I’m not panicking as much over this feeling. I don’t run out and date every attractive male in sight. I don’t compulsively place online personal ads so I will have company – any company! I stay home sometimes. I try to “enjoy” my own “company.” Yeah. I am so much damn fun I can’t stand it sometimes!
I also make glamorous celeb appearances at places like the Auburn Supermall! Now, if you have never sat at a table trying to sell your own book to hordes of big-haired shoppers hungry for Christmas bargains who don’t know you from – uh, someone else totally obscure – then you have not experienced true humility. My pitch went something like this. “Hey you! Person who doesn’t know me from Adam! Come sign up to win this free goody bag. We’re calling it our “Breakup Recovery Kit.” But you don’t have to be going through a breakup to enter haha!” Meanwhile, while unsuspecting shoppers are filling out their slips, say. “But if you DO know someone who is going through a breakup – or about to! - why, my novel would be a GREAT gift for them It’s all about my own horrible breakup, is quite hilarious – or so I hear, ha ha ha - and is all set in Seattle and I poured my heart and soul into it and I know you and everyone on your gift list will LOOVVE IT!”
At which point, some of them ignore you, some of them laugh a polite, fake laugh, and others say, “Oh really?” show a sincere interest, and pick up your book. They don’t buy it, of course. But a few do, and enough seem interested that you feel like a trek to the Auburn Supermall in the pouring rain (a trip which also resulted in three shirts from the “Banana Republic Factory Store”), was worth it, even though you went to sleep two hours past your bedtime, and woke up sick, hardly able to plow through any of the work that has piled up dangerously around your head.
But you know what, I have the email addresses of a gazillion people in Auburn and I am gonna own that f*cking town soon! In fact, I'm goint to to retire there when I get fired.
E-mail Breakup Babe
Wednesday, November 01, 2006
( 9:04 AM ) Rebecca
So it seems a bit early to say this but there is a teeny-tiny chance that I am getting my mojo back.
Because I remembered something yesterday. Something that I’ve forgotten in the last month or two.
I TOTALLY KICK ASS.
That’s right. Oh, certainly, I have my problems. I’m messed up in love, confused about work, insecure about my writing, a hypochondriac, an obsessive-compulsive, a person full of ambivalence and fear and anxiety. But hey, what artiste worth their salt is not, might I ask you? If I weren’t effed up and overly-sensitive to the Great Pain of Life, I would never have been able to bring the world such a great artistic achievement as BreakupBabe: A Novel, now would I?
Now. Down to important matters. Since the world is once again my patisserie when it comes to men, I have a workplace crush. If anyone should know not to indulge in a workplace crush, it should be me. However, as I think I mentioned a while back, another spectacular car-crash of an office romance would make for a good sequel to BreakupBabe, oui?
My Hallway Crush (H.C) and I have not yet spoken beyond a shyly whispered "hi." But oh how my heart flutters when I see him! Handsome yet modest-looking, polite yet with a body to die for, my H.C. wears no wedding ring and has the hungry look of a single male; HOWEVER, his relationship status is unknown. Girlfriend? I hope to hell not or I will kick some serious a*s.
First things first, however. Before we can get married, we need to have a conversation. Any conversation. He is rather shy so I feel it will be up to me. But never fear, I have my opening line all prepared. It just has to be the exact right moment. Will it come today? (Which it should because I am wearing my special SweaterBraBreastEnhancingCombo!) DOUBTFUL. But the longer we put it off, the better, as undoubtedly all my illusions will be destroyed soon as we actually meet.
Which reminds me of a t-shirt my father had in the 80s and that my parents thought was the most hilarious thing ever, and that I never understood back then (even though I sometimes stole it and wore it to 7th grade P.E.) but I certainly do now:
"I have given up my search for Truth and am now looking for a good fantasy."
And, lemme tell you, in my fantasies, this guy is perfect.
E-mail Breakup Babe