Listen, We All Fuck Up Sometimes, But...
Lately, I have been distinctly underwhelmed by the graphic designers we've been working with. It's like -- listen, dude. If you don't want this job, cool. That's fine. If I'm taking you away from higher-paying, more fulfilling, better connected work -- I get it. I won't take it personally. But, you know, if that's the case: don't take the job I offer you. I mean, if you're going to half-ass it, then just...go offer your whole ass to someone else. I promise you, I will not think less of you for it.
Meanwhile, back at the ranch, I have to deal with this malarkey and this whole Monday has started off like crapcakes and I just really can't wait for dinner and wine.
I had a tiny piece of cake this morning, and so far, I feel ok. A little sketchy, but mostly ok. Still, though -- I wish I hadn't eaten it. I fully believe in treating yourself every once in awhile. It's good for the soul; it's good for the body! But I am starting to feel like my chubby ass needs to upgrade to some better treats. 2 week old frozen birthday cake is not the business, yo. Gimme some flan or a fruit tart or something. This cake was leftover from a friend's birthday and because I couldn't bear the thought of simply not eating the cake, I asked her to freeze a piece so that I could eat it when I got off my fast. Can you imagine? Can you imagine being that daggone caught up in cake that you can't let even the tiniest sliver go? Family, that's ridiculous.