Today is a very special day. Let's take a looksee...
I did gain about fifteen pounds in the previous nine months and that is certainly enough to warrant an entire separate human being should one be gestating during that time. But no. I provide you with no extra people and no extra large breasts (you don't really want to know where that extra 15 went, trust me).
It's been nine months since I've done this:
Disgusting, eh? Not only am I smoking, I have not yet purchased the web cam that taught me the trick of self portraiture--good lighting, always aim high or take advantage of natural shadows to avoid double chins, comb your bad hair before the shutter clicks, and never ever reveal fat hoagie roll arms, thick midsections or an enormous ass (the last of which you are blessedly spared).
I do have really nice white teeth though. And no wrinkles. There is no faking that. No sirree.
So here's the deal. I'm pretty freaked out about tomorrow, hence my over-posting to Usenet (if you are following that) and my rambling on about hoagie rolls and cigarettes on this website. I just can't go to bed yet.
Tomorrow, I find out if the death letter that I wrote will be sent to me!
How screwed up is that? There is a significant chance that the well crafted and sensitive yet firm dismissal letter that I wrote for people whom I called "poor saps" in a previous update was my own suicide note.
Those of you paying attention already know Hula's out of work. How do we survive without my paycheck? Hmm? (It's a pretty big paycheck and will be sorely missed.) While I will receive unemployment should my position be "realigned", it will be roughly half of my "substantial" earnings, rendering them "less than adequate". What the fuck will we do??
My mind is spinning. Literally. Every time it circles back to my job and Hula's unemployment, it whisks away to significantly worse things occurring in my life, which sort of puts things into perspective for me.
I've alluded to them in previous entries and in my notify e-mails. But have been hesitant to write about them here for fear of violating the privacy of others. Suffice it to say that one of the "things" is that my sweet and wonderful daddy is "under the weather".
I'd much rather lose my job and gain another fifteen pounds if I had a choice. "If you know what I mean and I think you do."