Practically poorfect in every way

Today I deposited my very last alimony check.

                                                   
My 3 ½ years of alimony are over.  Am I where I thought I’d be in 3 ½ years?  No.  But to be fair - did I have a plan of where I was going to be in 3 ½ years?  No.  I’ve had a lot of ideas.  I’ve had a lot of big dreams.  But, a plan?  Not so much.  (I’m pretty sure I need to get one of those.  Can you shop for those online?)
 
On this day, which I shall forever dub as The Day I Became Poor, I don’t have hateful and hurtful things to say to The Ex.  Surprisingly, I don’t have feelings of anger or sadness (well, maybe a little sadness about being poor) or victimization.  Instead, I feel thankful.  So, unlike the many other letters I have wanted to write to The Ex, here is a letter of gratitude:
 
Dear The Ex,

When you left, a part of me died.  But a new part came to life.  In a way, I owe a lot of who I am to you.  If you hadn't left, I might not have learned what I'm made of.  I am one tough ass broad.  And I'm resilient.  And capable.  And crazy and wonderful.  I'm like a human burrito - full of good things and bad.  And when you take a bite it's damn delicious.  Thank you for leaving me so I could discover that I'm delicious!

Peace out*,

Jen


*Yeah.  I said peace out.  That's the gangsta part of my burrito.  Or, the Napoleon Dynamite's brother part of my burrito.  Whatever.  Either way - take it.

Cliches in the membrane, cliches in the brain

I know I've ranted about my Real Job already, but I have a few new bones to pick with this system.  What is the deal with the 9-5er jargon?  On Fridays everybody says stuff like, "Happy Friday!" and, "We made it!"  On Mondays the response to, "How are you?" is always, "Not bad for a Monday."  Followed by a nod of agreement from the questioneer.  (What?  That's a word.)  And if anyone makes a mistake any day of the week it is necessary to say some variation of, "Is it Monday?"  And then laugh like a ding dong.

I'm surrounded by working drones and cheesy cliches and I'm becoming one of them!  I even call Thursday "Friday Eve"!  Just once, when someone says, "Happy Friday!"  I'd like to say, "Not for hookers.  They have a pretty serious work week ahead of them."  And I'd love to respond to, "How are you?" on Monday with, "Well, I'm hung over as shit and I'm pretty tender from being slammed like a screen door last night."

But, alas, I'm a lady (ish), and I just stick with the usual cliches.  One of these days, though.  One. of. these. days.

Someday is for bitches

I have this friend who is in a shit-or-get-off-the-pot situation with her boyfriend.  (No, this friend is not me.  If I had a boyfriend the whole damn world would have known about it long before there was a problem.  And if I had a boyfriend, you'd be reading a post called "Hell just froze over.") 

Anyway, he just can't seem to pull the trigger.  He says he wants to marry her and he wants to have kids...someday.  Someday?  I'm insulted and he's not even my damn boyfriend.  He's been saying "someday" for two years.  What about now?  When will someday be now?  It won't be.  You know why?  Because "someday" is just a polite way of saying "never".

Bleh, someday.  It's the twin brother of sometime.  As a single girl, I hear a lot of sometimes.  "I'll call you sometime."  "Let's do it again sometime."  Jeez, if you don't want to see me again just say, "It was nice to meet you," and be on  your way.  If you do want to see me again suggest now, tomorrow, next week.  Don't bother me with "sometime".

Guys, let me say this in words you'll understand.  You want to hang out again "sometime"?  Well, I want to give you a blowjob..."sometime".  On board with "now" yet?