Whoa. Today has been chock full of upses and downses. Let me begin.
UP! Got a very sweet email from my manager at the Snail telling me I did a good job at the store this morning.
DOWN! *Everything* else at work from 7am right to 3pm was *rock bottom bad*.
UP!
DOWN! Perhaps it’s just bad karma, smacking me down for the excesses of my luxuriant lifestyle, but I decided that work has been stressful and I wanted a facial. So I went for one. And experienced the most dreaded conversation a woman can have with her beautician…
Beautician: Umm, are you, like, allergic to anything?
Me: Just aspartame. Why do you ask?
Beautician: Well, are you noticing any sensation on your face? Like burning? Or swelling? It’s, uh, it’s pretty red. I think maybe we should stop the treatment.
Me: No worries, as long as I’m not going to be permanently disfigured!
Beautician: (long, uncomfortable pause) Mmmm.
It’s fine now. My delicate porcelain visage is still feeling a touch tight and dry, but I figured I’d just buy a couple of bottles of water on the way home and – zing!
The Wheel of Fortune is not *quite* ready to turn just yet. Which brings me to my next event of crappiness: shopping for groceries. As the nice cashier finishes ringing through my $60 worth of food, I reach nonchalantly into my purse, only to discover my wallet is not there. After getting dirty looks from the cashier, everyone in line behind me, and the stock boy who has to put it all back on the shelves, I scurry home to cancel my credit cards. I then get spoken to in such a demeaning fashion by the customer service representative at Citibank that while relating our conversation to Chrissy in realtime via MSN messenger, I actually type the words, “I hate (this Citibank employee) so much I want to eat his bone marrow“.
UP! To placate my terrifying wrath,
Furthering my good mood, the credit card companies say nobody has used my cards so far and they’re on 48 hour hold in case the wallet turns up in the morning; Ed kindly lent me money for my groceries until I can pay him back tomorrow; and my friend Alastair, whom I’ve been in a bit of a tiff with, sent me an apology letter, which was a great relief, since I hate fighting.
So, in conclusion, I am happy that today started and ended on an upswing.
*peers nervously over shoulder*
In fact, I think it’s time for bed. RIGHT NOW.
FTR, the game is called WAR OF THE MONSTERS, and I think I was less disturbed by your choice of words (I myself habitually swear like a sailor with Tourette’s Syndrome) than by the freaky detailed backstories you were concocting for each monster as we battled: Giant Preying Mantis to Not-Quite-Copyright-Infringing-Godzilla-Clone: “You bastard! You said you loved me! How dare you unleash your fiery breath upon me! Take this! And this! And give me back my futon!!”
Sorry to hear about the craptastic chain of events that followed your departure. You should have just stuck around. It never gets better than my place. Which explains why I spend so much goddam time here, I suppose.