good riddance

fourteen months at my place of employment and all i have to show for it is blood so rich in vitamin A it could cure cancer. yes, copious boxes of free, fresh, organic produce was an undeniably good thing. the amount of kale & collard greens i have consumed over the last year is frightening...especially when visualized en masse...but i digress. my brain has gone to shits. what with the data entry, customer billing, receiving phone calls from the affluent and lazy all day in regards to their soft tomatoes and moldy stone fruits. here's an idea mrs. beacon hill- how about you walk the 50 meters to your nearest grocery store and quit your whining? truly. sincerely. this was my life. i love that word, was.


boss: so christina, i won't be in on friday...i'm having a ehh em ehh...a minor surgery.
me: (feigning concern) oh really?
boss: ehh...yeah...ehh, it's not a big deal...i just won't be able to have kids afterward.

"no-jeff-thursdays" were undeniably the most bearable. our time was spent mocking said boss, google image searching to our hearts' content, and sharing our discoveries via gmail chat. who knew there was such a cornucopia of cyber gems to be unearthed? i'm talking sites devoted to creepy mascot costumes, fake poop & poop plaques (black holes for general pre-pubescent potty humor), and even worldwide beard & moustache achievements. ahh, when i look back at this time in my life in attempts to salvage some thing, any thing...well, at least i'll have this:



my life will also *thank you baby dinosaur jesus* finally be devoid of the co-worker who spent so many months successfully spleening me. if he wasn't insisting that i go rollerblading with him along the charles, he was pressuring me to "get my girlfriends together" so that he could take us to foxwoods casino. while the image of a 35 year old italian american, born and bred in "mehdfehd" mass and still living with his mother, clad in a dirty wife beater, adorned in gold medallions caught amidst a jungle of chest hair, and sweatily gliding down memorial drive is ever so irresistible, all i can say is "phew." and as a delightful exclamation at the end of this disappointing story, i leave you the special man in all his guido glory. garth; that was a haiku.