Adding Insult to Injury

My life is beginning to resemble a really bad romantic comedy. Something that would star Ashley Judd or Kate Hudson or one of those cookie cutter cupie doll types. A 26-year-old woman loses her job (yeah, I got laid off) and heads home to the small suburbs of Chicago to refresh and renew. There's the hometown bar scenes, the heart to heart with parents, the brother with his quirky family, all rolled into some fabulous fun for an hour and a half. I mean really the only thing missing is the high school sweetheart that still can't get over our heroine. Since I didn't really have a high school sweetheart and was an even bigger fag hag in high school then I am now, I think I am shit out of luck in that regard. Basically that means that there will be copious amounts of drinking and shopping before I head back to LA on Sunday.

That being said, this has just not been my month. First the pre-break up, which on its own, is little more then an amusing story. Then there was the therapist debacle, which stung, but also can be written off as a forgettable offense. But now, I was laid off. Laid Off! By an organization that I was planning to leave anyway, but that has no business assuming they could do anything without me. I don't think I realized how ludicrously pathetic my life was getting until I started this blog. I am so not feeling sorry for myself. There is no doubt in my mind that things could be much much worse, but sometimes I really have to ask myself "What the fuck is going on?" Is there anything more pitiful then an overweight, unemployed nonprofit worker? And when you add in my lack of sex life, I'm really headed in the 400-lbs, cat-owning, librarian direction. No one wants that. I would be much happier with the martini-drinking metropolitan diva (a la Sex and the City type) that has a fabulous job and sleeps with twenty year olds. The only problem is that I didn't sleep with twenty year olds when I was twenty and I'm unemployed. That prospect doesn't look too promising.

So its back to the drawing board. Somewhere between the librarian and the diva, there has to be a happy medium. I'll let you know when I find it. But for now, more shopping (on my parents' dime, of course) and much more drinking...