Coffee Rhetoric: pissed
Showing posts with label pissed. Show all posts
Showing posts with label pissed. Show all posts

February 15, 2008

... Didn't You Know This?

That wretched, waste of time and money holiday... the one that starts with a V and shall remain nameless, is finally done and over with.
I always find it amusing when couples wait once a year to do something thoughtful and sexy for one another, before settling back into the routine of being jerks to one another. I smirked on the inside as a co-worker discussed how mean and cold his siggy other acted toward him, prompting him to consider calling it quits over the past weekend, before she called apologizing... all sweetness and light. Bitch knew that V day was on the horizon, that's why. Word on the street is that he got her an assortment of lovely gifts anyway.
I rolled my eyes as I listened to the frazzled bartender at restaurant Hot Tomatoes, sitting in wait for my lunch as he complained about the dozens of reservations overwhelming the restaurant for the evening... "people don't realize, we'll be extremely busy and they expect to be in and out in like 45 minutes!"
"Call me jaded, but I don't understand what all the fuss is about..." I opined. "It'll be done and over with in hours, and couples will go back to clawing at one another's throats on the 15th. But perhaps I'm just saying this, because I'm single..."
"Yeah..." he agreed before throwing up his hands at the ringing phone and rushing to answer it... Another hopeful patron probably wanting a reservation, no doubt. And then there was that attractive, young, sharply dressed and perfumed Hispanic couple I passed on the street later on that evening, after clocking off from work... arguing en route to Hot Tomatoes, as girlfriend struggled in her pointy-toed stiletto boots, to keep up with her agitated boyfriend, as they stomped to their destination over melting snow piles.
Ask me how deep my scowl furrowed, as I shook my head at the tacky assortment of plastic hearts, pitiful looking single red roses individually wrapped and contained behind cellophane plastic (for a whopping 5 to 10 bucks a pop), white teddy bears holding red heart pillows with the words "I Love You" painted on the front, and other stupid bric-a-brac vendors were hoping to hawk to desperate last minute shoppers, who didn't have time to order that delicious (and pricey) flower shaped cantaloupe bouquet from Edible Arrangements.
The most infuriating moment, however? ... Walking into CVS Pharmacy and discovering every last bit of fucking chocolate... every box of Hershey's Pot O' Gold (on sale for $3.88) sold the eff out!! The inconsiderate vultures. I wanted to push the shelves over in blind, white hot fury, but instead purchased a pack of cellulose facial sponges, black liquid eyeliner, and gum and stormed out into the damp, dark winter malaise, in a moue of glossy indignation and disgust.
The bitter ramblings of a young woman, never having been in love and cynical about the complex maze of dating? Perhaps. Or maybe just realistic and an staunch advocate of consistency in genuine behavior and emotions, just 'cause... not prompted by some corny holiday, that dictates you should go broke buying someone's affections once a year.
This morning, as I made my way to the entrance of my place of employment I came upon a sad looking, red, heart shaped mylar balloon, with Betty Boop on the front... flirty and dripping hearts lying on the ground. Dejected on February 15th. The last remnants of the previous day already forgotten and only remembered to begin with, due to some overwhelming sense of obligation. Half deflated and out of place in the backdrop of a crisp, bright, wintry-white morning as people hurried around it, rushing about in long, black winter coats... faces grim as they clutched their oversized Starbucks cups as if the 14th never happened. Clutching my own dark roast, I stopped and looked down at it. I shook my head. That pretty much summed up V-day. I stepped on Betty's face with my favorite pair of calf boots and rushed in to start my day.
P.S. to the man whose phone number I accepted a couple of weeks ago, because I thought you were genuine... TEXTING a response to someone's voicemail message, after "hoping" that they'd call: "Thanks! Talk to U Later" and then following up by calling at odd hours: 7:30 AM as you're getting in your car (I heard you unlocking your door), calling and then hanging up sans leaving a voicemail, texting "Are U up??" @ 12:20AM on a week day are NOT the proper ways to woo someone for a date and is rather dubious. Been there, done that... and the shirt I have to prove it? I use it to clean around the house. Strikes one, two, AND three. You're out!

November 13, 2007

Rat Race

I can openly say (now) that I've been pounding the pavement for the past several months, job interviewing, hunting, fielding phone calls, mailing out resumes, receiving notices confirming receipt of my resume, wash, rinse and then repeat. Needless to say, the whole process is frustrating. It's the pits! Particularly when you're so close. Sooooo very close to being hired only to be told "Ohhh.... well you're too overqualified" or "We can't move forward with an offer for another two months. Sorry for putting you through SEVERAL INTERVIEWS AND PHONING EVERY LAST ONE OF REFERENCES, AND DOING THAT BACKGROUND CHECK ON YOU!! Please bear with us..." Notwithstanding the fact that you've answered all of their redundant (and sometimes condescending and ridiculous) questions, and have been more than accommodating in providing them with everything they need to move forward with an offer, including making yourself available at a moment's notice for another interview. I feel like a salesperson, going door to door selling your wares. One or two people invite you in. Let you sit down and go through your whole spiel. They nod. They ask several questions. They seem interested. They breathe in as if they're about to say, "I'm sold! I'll take two!" Only to change their minds and say, "Ohhh. I'm sorry. I'm not interested." Argh! Frustrating. Sometimes I wonder if those doing the interviewing, remember what it was like when they were practically groveling for their jobs... I need a drink.
The movie clip is from the film, Fear and Trembling, based on Amelie Nothomb's novel Stupeur et Tremblement.

October 15, 2007

Tantalus is My Homeboy

Drawing straws and constantly coming up short, is exasperating. In fact, it's downright maddening. Especially when you think you're making headway. When you're soooo close to triumph. My face hurts from all the (fake) smiling, taking 'ish in stride, and feigning optimism in the wake of so many roadblocks. I feel like going outside in the chilly fall air, and screaming at the top of my lungs. I want the whole world or at least those within a 10 block radius, to feel... know... experience what adverse frustration feels like. You know that twisting feeling one gets at the pit of the stomach... when you've overindulged in way too much of a good thing... like intensely flavored Middle Eastern fare or rich chocolate truffles, rolled in even more powdered cocoa? That is what adverse frustration feels like. At least for me. ...
I breathe in... and then I exhale. I breathe in... and then I exhale. I try to stop the rapid beating in my chest. I unclench my fists and I massage the insides of my right hand, and then use the right to massage the left. And then I dive back in. Making sure to pinch my nostrils closed so as not to breathe in too much of the elements, because I don't wanna drown or knock the wind out of my person ...

August 24, 2007

Da' Root

... Said I went, Said I went, Said I went to the doctor. The man told me there ain't nothin' wrong with me But I beg to differ, I been feelin this pain for much too long I feel like my soul is empty My blood is cold and I can't feel my legs I need someone to hold me. Bring me back to life b4 I'm dead. She done worked a root...root...rooooot. -D'Angelo, The Root
My hopes of channeling my inner Blair Witch have been dashed, as I couldn't find one decent hex or jinx spell online. I was hoping to curse someone with a nasty case of mud butt, but alas to no avail. Perhaps this is good for my karma, which has been scattered as of late. Oh well, next time. For now, I'll settle on my trademark cold, blustery stare.
*eyes darting sneakily from side to side*

August 07, 2007

Please Pardon Me...

... I'm brooding. My energy is scattered, the planets and the stars are dispersed all willy nilly. My patience, my intestinal fortitude has been tried and tested and so I'm taking deep inhalations of breath, breathing out slowly, and counting. Because I truly believe certain people were put on this planet to piss off and antagonize others. There are those of us who can shrug off the funk and then there are those of us whose fingers flex after a certain moment in space and time. Our hands open and close from the rage boiling in the bit of our stomach because we want to strike. We want to slap. We want to choke. To injure. But instead we breathe in and out, tell ourselves to get a grip, that'll it'll be okay. And then we count.
One... Two... Three...