Confessions of A Naughty Girl

From the Depressing News Desk, Part II

I was just going through my quarterly edition of The Miamian, my alumni magazine, and I spotted some news about people I know. There were a lot of marriages and promotions, but a few things caught my eye:

1. Two professors that I had in college are now dead. One of them, Fito, was my advisor that I had a major crush on circa 2001, and wrote a bunch of glowing recommendations for me for grad schools. He was in his 30s. Very sad.

2. An old flame, good old Randall, actually submitted news about himself, and it wasn't even really news. No surprise there, it was just another one of his pathetic attempts at self-glorification as compensation for small manliness and insecurity:

Randy W______ is a senior treasury analyst for First Data Corp. in Denver, forecasting daily cash flow swings and managing the company's commercial paper desk.

First of all, what the f*ck does that mean. To me it sounds like he's answering phones and operating the cash register at a Denver Piggly Wiggly bank branch. It reminds me of all of that shallow corporate lingo that I hear in on a daily basis - "He dropped the ball on that one..." and "Well, directionally, I think we're headed...." and "Just wanted to give you a heads up..."

Tangent: Before I started working, I never actually used the term "dropped the ball" before, "directionally" is one of those redundant words that means absolutely nothing, since the assumption of every verbal interaction is that you are "directionally" going somewhere with it (although ironically, people seem to say that when they're making pointless statements), and "heads up" translates to "you're f*cked, better fix it before the Boss Man shows up." Also, please add the phrase "FYI info" to my listed of most hated phrases, which is like "ATM machine", in that it translates to "for your information info", or "automated teller maching machine".

Randy always was a white-collar dick in a redneck's body.

Secondly, as if the obscure description wasn't enough to tantalize my tastebuds, there was a very formal-looking mug shot of him with a noticeable receding hairline and a "Wall Street" style smirk on his face. Good thing it was a head shot and did not show the alumni his intimidating 5'6" stature. Last thing I heard he was dating some grass-smoking, outdoorsy Colorado chick. I wonder if he makes her grits in the morning for her munchies.

Now I know that some of you will think this is harsh. And it is. I do not dislike or have ill-will towards most, if not all of those in the past, but when he told his brother that I was his girlfriend without consent, and then proceeded to throw the flowers I had sent him for Sweetest Day in the trash the next week, it occurred to me that I was wasting my time on a potentially bipolar freak. That relationship taught me two things: 1. don't date a guy just because he drives a BMW 325, and 2. don't ever send a guy flowers.

Wow this is depressing. Time for bed. I have to look forward to my romantic evening out tomorrow night with my career-changing love partner.

posted by KA @ 12:01 AM