Bitchy

When only very second-best will do...

So - I've been looking for another job (I finally got motivated to get out of the 7th Circle of Hell that is my workplace) and have been inundated with phone calls and emails from headhunters. Many of them have found their way into my Recycle Bin because the authors of said emails do seem to want to take "NOT WILLING TO ACCEPT CONTRACT POSITIONS" for an answer but occasionally a real gem makes it's way to my inbox. I received one of these little beauties the other day and it went kind of like this...

James,

My name is XXXX XXXX. I work for an organization that represents a select group of companies that use us to identify, separate, isolate, and weed out top talent throughout Texas.

...

I'm sorry, but did he say "weed out the top talent"? This would explain a lot in the IT industry - contracting projects that go WAY over budget; undocumented deliverables; EDS Consulting.

Oh no, no thank you - the best skilled workers just won't do!

That's like saying "Who wants a gold medal when silver is a much prettier metal." or "Who would want to be #1? That's the loneliest number, you know." or "Why learn correct pronunciation when I can just keep saying 'Nucler'?".

Oh well, I guess if there weren't companies that used IT recruiting firms that all those headhunters would just end up on the street - slapping bitches and takin' money from ho's...
  • Current Music
    Mein Herz Brennt - Rammstein
Butch

Today is a good day to...Live

Klingons! They really don't get it sometimes. A Good Day to Die my Fat Hairy Ass! I want a good day to Live. And yesterday I got one and with it the realization (or rather the re-confirmation) that it isn't the good days that make a mark on our lives, but the good moments.

Yesterday my Evil Twin Skippy (swisssushi) and I wanted to kill some time during lunch. Neither of us was hungry but we wanted to get away from Gehenna even if just for an hour. So, we gave in to our inner "Malibu Barbie" and went shopping! Skippy suggested that we look for some clothes for me (seeing that I still haven't replaced the clothes that I can't wear anymore) and ended up at Foleys looking at some jeans for yours truly. She instantly found a cohort in crime with the salesperson in the men's section & together they berated me until I agreed to try on a couple of pairs of jeans - size 38. Yeah, right like they were going to fit! Hello, when I walk backwards a loud beep sounds - duh! Anywho, I take the heinous mocking jeans into the fitting room & try them on. WTF!!! They fit. Obviously they were mis-tagged. Skippy comes in, demanding to see the jeans on me. I am not amused - of course I would get the pair that were mis-marked. She ain't buying it. She hands me another pair of size 38 jeans and while doing her best Stalin impersonation orders me to get a life & try on these jeans. OMFG! They fit. As I stand there wearing pants in a size my butt hasn't seen in years I see myself in the dressing room mirror and make a startling discovery. I'm not the same Fat Guy I was 10 months ago. HOLY SHIT! Now I know logically that I have gone from a size 48 to a size 38 - mainly because none of my clothes fit (and by not fitting I mean I could sub-let most of my pants as low-income housing, with room to spare), but all this time I have still seen me as The Fat Guy. I look in the mirror and see The Fat Guy - except for now. Now I see a The Maybe-Not-So-Fat Guy.

And I did the Ferret Dance of Joy!

And I tried on 6 more pairs of size 38 jeans - because I still couldn't believe that these were size 38 jeans. Or rather I couldn't believe my ass was now a size 38 ass. All but one pair fit - and the pair that didn't was too big. I tried on a size 36 in those jeans, and they fit. I bought those bitches.

Did I mention the Ferret Dance of Joy!?!?! Well, sometime the Universe does like to just pat you on the head and smile... and the Universe had one more little moment waiting for me that day.

Same day, different time - approximately 12 or so hours later. I had put away the new clothes, done what little housekeeping I needed to do in my bedroom and had bounded into bed to catch a good few hours before the next day at Gehenna. I had just snuggled down into the covers, the cat was just settling into bed next to me and I rolled over and grabbed one of the pillows. And then, as Ren Hoek would say, "something beautiful happened"... I inhaled. And in that slight intake of air I smelled a scent that until then hadn't realized was tied to so many emotions, so many feelings, or so much information. The scent was of cologne, not mine but cologne that belonged to the man that had occupied that space just a scant 24 hours earlier. The scent triggered in me feelings and memories - not residing in my brain but throughout my entire body. My arms remembered the exact place his head rested in them and the exact place where they had encircled him; my chest remembered the exact temperature of his body, the curve of his back, and the slight pressure against it caused by his breathing; my face remembered the movement of his hair as the back of his head brushed against my cheek, the exact texture of his skin as I brushed against his face; and my heart remembered the joy of that moment, the love I felt for this man as I held him close to me, and the stillness of time itself.

As all these memories and emotions flooded my system I could do nothing but let it happen and be amazed by the power of it. I remembered the events of the previous evening, but with that one trigger I did not remember them I relived them. When this moment had passed (as all moments are want to do) I could do nothing more than smile, and thank the Gods for Moments such as these. Within a few moments I was asleep and within a few moments beyond that I was dreaming...

...dreaming of A Good Day to Live.
  • Current Music
    Heaven's Here on Earth - Tracy Chapman