Fond memories of tulips on my organ - 11 March 2004

It’s 2:13pm and I’m about to eat a cheerful meal of peanut butter crackers and soda water, the same meal I had last night for dinner.   Back in September or October, my ex girlfriend would likely have come over with Parma ham, cheese, and fresh bread as well as a few beers; by this time I would, in all likelihood, be fucking her from behind at my desk, roughly where my plate lies now.  Or since it’s pissing down rain, I’d have her bent over my balcony rail – one of her fantasies was fucking in the rain, and being a good boyfriend I gladly obliged her. 

Not that she was un-employed - oh no, not her!  She worked at nights (must remember to use past tense when writing about her) and had the morning and afternoon free to be with me.  You’re probably thinking she was a hooker or waitress working nights like that, but no, she’s a talking head on a local TV news show.  I used to watch her on TV and smile to think that my dick had been in her mouth just that afternoon, or that the lipstick 300,000 Singaporeans were seeing would soon be smeared all over my face.  A damn fine ego trip it was to be a with a TV girl like that, and she was a terrific fuck, but it’s pity she was a psycho, it’s pity she’s gone, and it’s an even greater pity that I’d take her back in second despite all her faults.  Bitch.

Anyway, my career counselor asked me to answer some questions – the most important in my career workbook, apparently, as the answers will be worked into my resume.  The first asked what problems I identified at my last job, what actions I took to solve these problems, and the result of these actions.   The only thing that came to mind was that I identified my Australian boss was an utter, lying bitch, and so I resigned to get the fuck away from her.  Brilliant, no?  Jake Stratton for CEO. 

One thing I have learned, however, from the Myer’s Briggs she gave me is that I loathe authority, love to write, and need to be in an open, creative environment – in other words, the exact opposite of the environments I’ve been in the last few years.  Great, terrific, I’ll take a huge pay cut (although there’s no pay at all right now) and become a copy writer like my brother, Curly. 

Curly makes a ton of money, but he started out making fucking peanuts, and even though he’s making a mint right now he needs to support his pregnant wife, Giggles, a full-time maid, and will soon have my nephew to deal with.   So, in reality, he only makes a quarter of what he’s really making owing to all these mouths he has to feed. 

Time to get to work on my career work book.  Damn boring sitting around with little to do.  Some sex would be good right now even though I’ve probably forgotten what to do as I haven’t fucked for months. 

“Which hole is it again, Miss?”

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