WHAT IT'S LIKE TO DATE ME

On what is meant to be a lazy, relaxed Sunday I'll put on the only clean shirt I own which happens to be a shirt that is entirely too small for me and belongs at a Baby Gap sale for preemies and at brunch I will huff and puff and complain after eating one morsel of granola at how fat I am and how I am bursting at the seams - literally a button flying off from one mere breath - when really any normal human being wearing this sized shirt on this body would die instantaneously from constricted breathing and as I reach for a sip of water and feel the shirt dig sharply into my flesh I consider the fact that I may go down in history as the only woman to amputate her own arms by the mere vice grip style shirt I've chosen to wear to brunch on a Sunday and then you sum it up perfectly reminding me exactly why I love you,

"Honey...I love you but that shirt sucks."

WISH I WERE THERE-NOT

I recently came across some fake postcards I wrote to an old boss while
away on vacation in Spain. He fired me two days before my trip and the
following fake postcards sort of sum up how I was feeling about it all:

Dear Old Boss,

Hola from Spain! Thank you for firing me two days before my vacation and sending me abroad with absoulutely no health insurance. My parents thank you too. I can hardly decide how to spend the half of one week's severence pay that you gave me. I'm torn between buying the taco with or without guacamole. I hope all is going well with you and 'the gang' back at the office who I'm sure are all still pretending to work hard by getting up to go to the bathroom fifty times a day and having their friends ring their phone lines off the hook. I also hope that company marketing kit I poured my blood and guts into writing (2 days before you fired me) to make your little shit company sound fifty times better than it really is is doing wonders for business.

Best,
K

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Dear Boss,

Hola from Spain! Still having a great time. I only wish you and your anorexic wife were here so we could talk about such stimulating things as 'skateboarding' and 'spin classes' instead of all this Spanish history stuff. It would be so fun to walk through all the little shops of Spain while you looked for more Playstation games and your wife some more high heels. It's just not the same not having you - a grown man close to forty say, 'this is beat' one million times a day in my ear.

I don't think you'd like the hotel too much. It's actually an old castle converted into a romantic hotel overlooking the mountains of Spain. Yeah, but it doesn't get MTV. Instead we've had to do a lot of reading which I know you hate having said many times as President of the company in our morning staff meetings how you 'hate books' and that the newspaper 'makes your hands dirty'. Speaking of staff meetings, I really wish I was there at one now - presenting the morning agenda full of bullshit bullet points to remind us all on a daily basis exactly how lame your company idea is and just how badly you are failing. Instead my days involve sleeping in until noon, having sex with my boyfriend a few times a day and heading to the beaches of Costa Brava with a cooler full of drinks.

Wish I were there!
K