How come when people talk about their children they ALWAYS say "2 going on 21... hahaha". I for once would like someone to say "yeah, my kid is two and she acts like a fucking two year old". Or perhaps since all two year olds for whatever reason seem to act like they are 21 maybe that is just how two year olds act and people should stop making the comparison. Either way I am just sick of hearing about these people's children and grandchildren. I love kids as much as the next guy but if I am going to sit through a ten minute long story about how your kid taught some little Jewish boy the song of the cross or whatever the fuck it is called, I should at very least have some investment in this child.
If I don't know your name why the fuck would I want to know about your kid? I only like hearing stories about kids who are some how involved in my life (e.g. Jose and Seamus). I don't care if she got a Cinderella cake at home AND at school. You didn't bring me a piece. And if your daughter that I have never met and didn't even know existed is pregnant...well that is really wonderful for your family, but to me it is just extra information that is now needlessly floating around in my head. If someone said something mean to your kid on the playground, I am really sorry, but she should just get used to it because middle school can be rough and she might as well learn to suck it up now. All this is information that is now taking up space in my brain would be better used for something more important, or perhaps nothing at all.
If I don't know your name...I don't want to hear about your family. I don't think that is so much to ask. Maybe it sounds insensitive but why would stories about some random toddler that may or may not actually resemble a 21 year old interest me in the slightest.
Just a quick update for everyone: Job interview #9 this afternoon. I really think I am going to get this one. Really. So send good thoughts around 4:30.
The boss lady is "working" from home. Which is more stressful for me than you can possibly imagine. Every time the phone rings I have a mini panic attack because I am afraid it is her. But one of the nice things about her not being here is that I don't have to hear her speak poorly about me very loudly on the phone with the door open. That was fun.
She has the remarkable talent of being able to express anger, disappointment, and annoyance over email. Her use of BOLD and CAPITAL LETTERS makes everything very clear. Oh you want me to print out the last THREE pages and FAX them at 1:00. Ok I get it. You think I am stupid. And you also think my stupidity can be remedied by throwing in some extra font changes. Sorry Sheila, but as I am sure I will prove to you later this afternoon around 1:00 when I fax the wrong THREE pages of that document no matter how big the font or how bold the text, whatever it is that you think is wrong with me can't be fixed. I'm fine with it so maybe you should just fucking deal.
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