Random Blatherings

I hate hot weather. It makes me sweaty and sticky, and usually ratty and short tempered.

It’s been at least 23 degrees here today. And I’ve been inside. Thankfully by a door. My sharp mood wasn’t enhanced by my passive-aggressive boss. I ask for a break, and get the response (after she ignored me), “Yes in a bit. But I don’t know how long a bit will be”. She has time to stand discussing going running with my colleagues, but whatever. Eventually she stops doing whatever it was she was doing (probably discussing how the guy she met on Myspace *last night* wants to have anal sex with her - yes, we all get to hear about it….), and comes down to tell me I can go for my break, “if I must”. After exchanging a few more “pleasantries”, I went on my break. And deliberately came down 5 minutes late.

B, if you read this, realise that you really do have my pity. It must be awful to work somewhere where people are pleasant to your face, and then critical behind your back. It must be terrible to have to be on a constant power trip just to give yourself some sense of significance. Every day, I am glad that I am not related to you, and that I am paid to be in your presence.

You are a repellent woman. It is no surprise to me at all that your boyfriend is still sleeping with his ex, but never with you. Nor am I surprised that you can’t seem to keep a man beyond the first time you sleep with him.

I get that you’re lonely. I really do. Because you, know, I’ve been lonely too. Or you would know, if you took the time to think of someone other than yourself. I get that life has been hard on you. I mean, I only have to see the tattoo on your left breast to see that (and yes, I have heard about the one of a star in a place only your doctor should see).

But you know what? You catch way more flies with honey. Being rude to people only pushes them away, which is a concept you just can’t seem to grasp. Which is why I pity you. You will apparently never experience the wonders that this life has to offer.

Not that you deserve them.

Know that I would cross the road to spit on you, but I would not p*ss on you if you were on fire.

I remain your ever suffering “therapist”,

Sol.