i wasn't born to do something i don't like
Today didn't reek as much as I'd anticipated (although I did keep flashing back to "Drunk All Day" by Geoff Berner because I'd sure wasn't born to punch no clock). In a bid at being productive, I funnelled my ire into a number of referrals, so hopefully I can spread the unhappiness around on some of my more deserving students. I get few enough perks, so I'm relishing this particular one.
I caught up with my three favourite Bat Masterson people today, who represent the whole spectrum of emotion: Maeve is sad because her husband's being difficult, Mason is happy that he didn't have to take his wife to the hospital this week, and Poppy is overjoyed that only 9 weeks lie between now and when she'll be a mommy. Oh, and Poppy invited me to a so-called "Lesbian Brunch" on Sunday, so I'll just have to keep my mouth shut about my unfortunate tendency to kiss boys. She's promised to cover for me if it gets awkward. Hee. I'm really excited, actually – I can't imagine that Lesbian Brunch is any more exciting or risqué than Breeder Brunch, but it definitely has more caché.
Happy Colbert Day. I've spent my day putting people "On Notice" – except for Poet, whose continued resistance to seeing my family has taken him off the On Notice Board.
"There is only one thing worse than being On Notice. You are Dead to Me."
– Colbert's fate for the Toronto Raptors
(Yes, this is how I cope with rejection. Don't judge; seeing as this journal was more-or-less founded on my feelings of rejection, it's better than subjecting you all to yet another self-pitying rant.)
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Don't make me send out the Blake. He doesn't listen to *anyone.*