2004-07-30

Be careful what you wish for - did I never listen to those words and take them in?

I am redundant in the business sense, or at least in the "fired because nepotism rules small business" sense. Unexpectedly two weeks ago I was told in no uncertain terms to pack the desk and go coz one of the fabric sisters had returned yea, as the prodigal, from New York where she had a big fancy HR job and had decided to come back to Oz and work for the family. So no room pour moi.

I was devastated for about 15 minutes then realised that it was a gift. No more impossible requests, lack of recognition, or backstabbing fabric bitches. I have had the most relaxed two weeks of my life! I have watched Dr Phil every day. I have applied for a gazillion jobs but very few responses at this time and quite frankly who gives a flying fuckarolla because marketing is a fake world of trumped-up toupee wearing wong touchers. Have renounced my capitalistic ways forever, or at least until they threaten to cut the phone off.

I do need to get a new job but I have to say that swanning around one's house in jim jams really rocks, and it going to be hard to leave behind. I have even been a good little soldier and written some more tunes for the album, and I have some auditions to do, and I am hosting forty million trivia shows in the next few weeks which will bankroll my pyjama wearing a little while longer. A wise one once told me never to worry about money because it just turns up. I thought that was bullshit - if that statement really were true then why are there so many homeless and desperately poor people around? But I have come to realise that there is always money enough as long as you continue to hold aspirations and a belief that what you are doing is heading the right direction for you. Oh, and as long as you don't shoot what little money you have up your arm. The funniest thing is though, I am not frightened about being unemployed. I know I rock at selling shit. I know if it comes down to it i can work process in a canning line at some factory somewhere. Hell, I could rustle cattle if that was going to be profitable and not really criminal (and how emotionally scarred do rustled cattle get? Could I be responsible for cows going into therapy?).

So I return to diaryland after a long hiatus with hope in my heart that the world is not just a craparolla excuse for something to hang out in between birth and death, and with a vision for bigger, brighter and more beautiful musical excursions and endeavours. hell, I might even get laid once in a while! Yippee for nepotistic Jewish fabric merchants who have relased me from a job that i didn't realise was killing me.

bitch - moan