the week from shitsville

it was probably best that i stay away from this thing because anything i had to say was going to be dripping with negativity. i know, i know. that's so not healthy, and i will attract what i put out, yadah yadah. however, i can't help but be a sourpuss right now, and sometimes i think it's necessary for all of us to indulge out inner-sourpusses (or would that be sourpussies?) in order to experience the natural spectrum of human emotion. this week alone has been quite wretched.

first, my fantasy football draft did not go as planned. though i have some strong WRs (reggie wayne, randy moss), a good QB (carson palmer) and an excellent TE (witten), my RBs are questionable. and you always need good RBs! my competitive nature, the fact that i would like to continue to be reigning champion and the $40 i stand to lose all have me concerned about this.

then i learned that some of my personal emails were opened and read by a third party (i believe what happened is i didn't log out of my account, they saw a subject title or two that interested them, and they decided to read the emails). i subsequently spent sunday evening apologizing for what was said in them. then i spent all monday and tuesday growing more upset over the fact that my privacy was breached by people i trusted. dude! how do you just read somebody's email?? privacy, much like chivalry, is dead.

then i was on that terrible celebrity website that i said i was going to stay away from. of course, the one day i go on, surprise! i saw the name of this guy i went out with once or twice...a year and a half ago. i wasn't all that gaga over him at the time because i liked somebody else. so i put all my eggs in that faulty basket. a month later, that basket forgot how to use a phone and my eggs and my heart were left broken, splattered and fried on hot concrete. so i imdb this guy who was mentioned on that celeb site. so he's doing quite well for himself in terms of his career, but i didn't care so much about that as how gotdamn fine he was. like, was he that hot before? he got some facial hair and shit, and now he's all like...woah! so of course, i felt like an ass. my mom didn't make me feel any better when she called me, screaming into my voicemail about how cute he is and how cute her grandchildren could be. so...i emailed him. my email started with "you might not remember me but..." his email started with "you're right. i don't remember you..." awesome. i replied, telling him it was no big deal. it was a while ago. then i went home, stuffed myself with pinkberry and cursed myself for being such a former and current idiot. the next day, i received an enthusiastic email that said he did remember me and asked me how i was doing (so i guess the story has a somewhat pleasant ending). that same night, my mom told me she had a dream about our engagement party and reminded me that she's part psychic. seriously, does she say this stuff to inspire me?

then there's my ex-ex-boyfriend (not the threesome one, another one...but they have the same name. in fact, so does Hottie McHot pants from the website. all the guys i've mentioned in this entry have the same name. i should stay away from them.) who called and told me how much he misses me and wants to see me like he always does then casually informed me that he lives with his girlfriend (in a tone that suggested i should already know that tidbit). are you kidding me, you selfish bastard? granted, i don't want him, and i'd rather eat this computer screen than see him naked again, but he has some nerve. some nerve!

amidst all of this, i had to go to the gyno and get my cervix swabbed; listen to my neighbor, who i've christened Rotunda, continue to make her rounds upstairs; come to work everyday; come to work AND listen to husband tales and baby stories; come to work AND perform a SKIT about COMMUNITY; come to work AND actually do work, all the while pretending to give a shit.

i'm bitching. i should be more grateful. after all, i got free ribs today at work. i'll do better next week. promise. and the weekend looks promising. my boss is taking me to USC's football practice tomorrow morning, so i "can meet someone." you know you must be pretty pitiful if your BOSS is using her weekend time to find you a man.

i am really glad no one actually reads my blog in L.A. (or beyond)