all in my head

I miss you Juice!
Do you have any idea how busy I have been? Work’s alright- normal, a tad too normal for someone who’s serving notice.I’m working the usual worker bee hours and in addition to that I am still fighting away with those damn insurance monsters. Status: They are willing to consider to look through some of my receipts. I have reminded at least ten gazillion plus one times that noone with half a brain will ever go get cosmetic surgery the morning after being hit by a cab. I will let you know once they are able to assimilate this piece of information. Sometimes being smarter than the average bear just means that you have to encounter more dumasses than the average bear.

What else is up? Well, luckily for me- the ceiling. That’s a joke. Yesterday Sumatra was hit by an e-word and this caused some t-words here. E-words and t-words scare the crap out of me, and with all my blood loss, I have been nursing the world’s piskiest headache since yesterday. I tried everything but it.just.won’t.go.AWAY! Basically, I mean busy as in a state of mind- there’s been a lot going on. Fat, irritating men with body odour issues are stalking me. (he’s not really stalking me but the rest of the sentence is all true)

I love my friends. I will do anything for them and I won’t do anything more than pout if they make me wait. (And I hate waiting). Fortunately for me, my friends reciprocate with their fair share of grand gestures, little favours and generally being nice.

Which is why it is perfectly acceptable for me to bitch and rant about what I am about to bitch and rant about. (whoa, she didn’t just type that)

There are friends and there are tools. Tools are basically fools who think they’re your friends, have an unnatural knack for sexual innuendo and are predisposed to being incoherent. For a tool to consider you his friend, he must know a) your phone number or b) your email address. But…shouldn’t he know your name? I will demonstrate that no, in fact, knowing your name is optional.
Tool #1:
I’m gonna call this one Greasy Pliers (GP) for being the most opportunist fuck alive. GP’s a friend of Dishrag (another asshole I have the misfortune of knowing) and due to some freakish ill luck, has been on my msn contact list since forever. Ever since he moved to Singapore, he calls me once every few months to ask one inane question or the other. For someone who’s older than me, he does an pretty bad job of managing his shit.
“Jups, my sink has sprung a leak”
“uhhh.. okay.. call this plumber, he’s good”

“Jups, my house is infested with rats!!!!”
“uhh..”

On this particular occassion, I was recommending nice restaurants to take his mom to…After the long, painful conversation which interruped an otherwise delightful drinks session with Cowlick and Casa,
“so Jups, how is life?” (great..small talk after the fact)
“Okay..I just quit awesonelycoolfirm#1”
(sarcastic tone) ” Ohh… for what joy?”
“I’m joining awesomelycoolfirm#2”
*gasps, concusses*

RolyPolyThinksVerySlowly totally flips out, and I mean he loses his beans. He is hyperventilating, and I can literally see the exclamation marks hovering above his head. Clearly the answer to “for what joy” sent his pants on fire. I don’t know what the big deal is, but he is not the only one who is devouring bucketloads of sour grapes about my new not-so-glamourous job-in-glamourous-bank. It is NOT a big deal, I repeat, it is NOT.

Since the joyous day of news-breaking, GP proceeds to relentlessly annoy me on msn. He insists that we must have a “meeting” whereby he will discuss his career interests with me and I will then magically bestow him with the job of his dreams. This meeting is in his head.
I taunted GP to noooo end- it was sarcasm times two. I made it plenty clear that there was no way I could get him a job, seeing as I haven’t even started work there yet. I also mocked his irritating knack for calling me ONLY in times of distress and rats. He still keeps calling. And he wants to call out coffee meeting a “date” to .. get this… appease ME!
“Hellooo drops of mercury!”
“uhhh”
“Oh shit, sorry, I mean Jupiter!”

See? Some nerve Jaba the Opportunistic Hut has to muddle up my last name like that. Hmppfff. Anyway, I’m meeting him tomorrow. I hope, for his sake, that he remembers my name.

Tool #2:
Tool #2 pales in comparison to Tool #1. We shall call him Playdo because of his posture, or lack thereof. Playdo went to the same Junior college as I did. It is no secret that I was widely hated as the Queen Bitch of my class. The geeks held secret ceremonies where they chanted my name and set fire to my effigies. Maybe not, but they definitely said “That BB (brainless beauty) Jups sure is a total bitch!” Playdo never spoke to me, but he recently added me on Orkut-heaven knows why- and scrapped with this very intelligent anecdote “I remember you, you talked too much!”He also then added me on gtalk, where we exchanged a grand total of four sentences.
Until yesterday-

Playdo: hey
me: hello
Playdo: howz u?
me: im good!hows u
Playdo: am good too..tell me somethingis it possible for you to forward my resume in awesomelycoolfirm#1?

Whoa horsey, we didn’t even discuss the weather yet. Talk about thwarting the foreplay.
See, I must say this again. I LOVE MY FRIENDS and I wouldn’t think twice about such things but I am not about to refer hello-body-odour and blatantly-sexist for jobs that less assinine people deserve. Moreover, I am risking my reputation for some thankless idiots, and I probably won’t even get a cup of coffee in the bargain. Some big cheese is gonna say “Who’s this good-for-nothing? and which dumass recommended him?”

Anyway, tools 1 and 2, I will not recommend you and I wouldn’t touch your resumes with a ten foot pole. Learn to be nice. You can start by remembering my name, or helping the old lady cross the street or donating spare change or remembering my name. Idiots.

In other news Zip is here! With an envy inducing shopping basket that boasts of pretty dresses, floral shirts, delectable hot chocolate, interesting curios annnndddddddd…

MY BAGS! My bags my bags my bags
my lovely little bags
check it out!
(you have to sing it to the tune of My humps)

Needless to say, I have taken my new patchwork tote for a spin. I even got my nails done to match.

I am off now; work beckons and my head is still throbbing with the vengeance of a zit on a horny teenager’s face. Groan.

Update: See!! See!!

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