Eh. in Open Diary 2001-2018 (Pre-Prosebox)

Okay. I feel a little bit better, but I honestly don’t feel very good about anything right now. It just seems that when something kinda decent finally comes along in my life, some kind of small glimmer of hope that things are getting better…something else comes along to screw it all up. Could it be I’m sabotaging myself?

Here’s a perfect example: On Friday, we had our meetings with the new chairman of the corporation. I had been asked to be prepared to speak, but that there probably wouldn’t be enough time for my part since we were focusing on some other issues. Fine, whatever. I got my stuff ready, but just knew that they’d gloss over me.

So when we got to a point in the meetings, the president turned to me and asked me to talk about my role with the company and show the chairman a quick overview, I did. And after I was done, my boss and the prez gushed on and on about what a great asset I am and all that I do for the product teams and blah, blah, blah. And they made it sound so incredibly impressive. And the chairman nodded in agreement.

Good, right? Not so fast.

On Friday afternoon after all the hubbub, my boss grabbed me and my tough, hard-ass product manager and marched us around the building yelping out ways that we need to be improving.

So after he was done, she and I just looked at each other and shook our heads. We are spread so thin right now. It’s impossible to squeeze any more out of us. And as we were commiserating, I made the mistake of letting her know what a dick Boss was in Europe and the things that he was saying and the fact that he dragged her name into the whole heaping mess.

And she just about blew a gasket. She was so pissed that she was shaking. I asked her not to say anything, and she was like, bullshit…of course I’m going to say something!!!

So now, I’m fucked on so many levels because I just know that this thing will get blown out of proportion and it will be MY fault for saying something. But maybe that’s good. Maybe it will open some doors of communication.

I don’t know. It just ruined my weekend thinking about all of the stuff that’s going to go down in the next few weeks. I’m thinking about updating my resume. Yes, it’s kinda getting that bad.

And then I completely blew my diet yesterday. I did so well last week after being in Europe for those nine days. I was working out, feeling good, eating well. And then Saturday came along and I went insane. But in a good way. I mean, it was because I was having fun.

I actually went out both Friday and Saturday nights! I can’t remember the last time I did that. I’m obviously out of practice because I certainly can’t hang any more.

Saw my cute DJ on Friday night. Actually hung out with his business partner, Scott (who’s even cuter than cute DJ). Scott was in pretty rare form, buying me champagne and asking me to go with him to his car (showing off the new Mercedes pimpmobile) to get more CDs, and trying to hide me from his girlfriend (didn’t know he had one!). Cute DJ was all business except for the fact that he’d just had surgery on his shoulder and had one arm immobilized and so he was trying to do his thing with his left arm. And then two girls came up and sat with me. They were nice and all and wanted to make friends. I don’t know. I’m a bitch I guess. But I was so not into being nicey nice with them. I told them that I really didn’t want to seem rude, but that I had to go home. So I did.

Saturday, I went to the gym and then I went to a St. Patrick’s Day parade with Lyn, Renee, and Ren’s sis. Call me a baby, but I adore parades. I get all stupid giddy…especially over the bagpipes and the fire trucks (odd, I know). It was great! For a while. But then it got cold and blustery and started to rain. We turned tail and ran at that point.

Saturday night, I went to dinner with Lyn, Jill and Jen. We were trying to cheer Jill up (lot of shit going on with her lately). So we went to eat Mexican food…which has a tendency to be my downfall when trying to eat well. It was a fun dinner and we laughed and had a great time and I stuffed my gullet as full as I possibly could.

Then Jen and I decided to go to this place that [Parliament] had told me about last week. He was actually there with some of his friends (who I managed to piss off… surprise, surprise). It was fun, but I was exhausted for some reason. I tried to be fun and cheery, I really did. But it truly is impossible for me to fake it. When I’ve had it, I’ve simply had it and there’s nothing I can do about it. Even with [Parliament] trying to coax me into talking to the Dave Grohl look-alike. It just wasn’t meant to be.

So now it’s Sunday, and it looks like a beautiful day. I have a million errands to run because I waited until the last minute (typical), and then I think I’ll go into work for a while to get my ass organized for a brand new suck of a week. Why do I fucking try so hard? It’s only going to frustrate me in the end.

Still waiting for that toe-sucking.