Tuesday, January 16, 2007
(11:46 AM) | Claire:
Bakery Dreams
It's my second to last hatred and I'm already feeling nostalgic for the time when I was a naive young hater, not yet embittered by a public feud with a distant lover, who, in the end, chose academia. With these hatreds, I'll attempt to bulldoze the emotional wreckage of the past few weeks and clear a path for pure, untainted hate.I hate that mullet head has assigned me new detail work that I can supposedly do when I'm not answering 300 phone calls.
I hate that there's a half an hour until I can go to the bakery and purchase my generic coffee.
I hate that after going on the "Golden Revolution" pub crawl, I got doored by a car and fell off my bike in front of an audience of Wicker Park hipsters.
I hate that there is a flashing Christmas tree made of safety pins and plastic beads on my desk.
I hate that, in a vain attempt to mentally escape work, I have manufactured a crush on a young hippie/independent studier of agriculture who lives in a commune and works at the bakery.
I hate that instead of attending a lunch lecture on Freud, I stayed home and wrote a functional resume.
I hate that now that I've lost my Chicago Card Plus, I obsess about people taking it for joyrides all over the CTA.
I hate that my coworker's response to any question is a blank look, a shrug and nervous
laughter.
I that I rationalize my reception job by telling myself that I am perfecting my velvet voice for radio.
I hate that at some point in the process of making my chronological resume functional, it instead became dysfunctional.
I hate that so many of you have been hurt by my feud with Ben Wolfson.
Until next week...
