Femme Blaspheme

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Oh, oh dear God. I think the apocalypse is coming. My mother, my flesh and blood, has turned on me today. If I wasn’t so woozy I’d scream until my throat hurt and tell her what a horrible and most blasphemous thing she just said. As I think back on the exact moment I experience it in slow motion. Her voice is thick and clumsy and the words start to spray out of her mouth like poison drenched daggers. My eyes sting, as if I’m staring into a can of hot fishy-scented garbage. I was mentally begging her to close her mouth; even envisioning myself running up to her face, physically shutting her mouth, perhaps by stuffing it with a muffin. Before I could act, she blurted (with a huge grin and “pep” in her voice) ….”Honey, the coffee shop down the street is accepting applications for barristas!!” EXCUSE ME? I hate to be the stuck up (not so) recent graduate, I really do, but I can’t help but notice the huge difference in mental capacity between myself and a ******* barista down the street. I wanted to roll up in the fetal position, kick my feet all over the place and scream like a baby who lost their pacifier.

I would rather:
-fall asleep in the blazing hot sun without a coating of sun-block.
-get dreadlocks
-eat butter dipped in crisco then fried in pig fat
-floss with used floss
-drink a 40 of vodka mixed with rum
-run the NYC marathon in 6 inch heels

I just replied to about 20 more job postings. If I don’t hear back by Tuesday, i’m marching into that coffee shop and demanding that they hire me.

Disclaimer:
Mom, I love you. Let me make you some tea, after I clean the house and finish cooking dinner.

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Filed under unemployment, unemployrant