Yikes Anxiety

Didja ever find out that someone at your job was not having her contract renewed and then get in a panic because you remember other awful and difficult places and then you think well maybe I was wrong maybe all these places fire teachers willy nilly who says stuff like that - willy nilly - anyway then you try to call your two pals at your work but they're not answering and what with caller id they will think you're insane?

Ironically I just dreamed about Lou Grant who turned out to be Bitchqueenfromhell and it was the first dream in which she was trying to get me to stay there before she decided to try to get me to leave there without telling me to leave but just tormenting and humiliating me because I was more qualified than she thought I was and somehow being a certified teacher drove her mad. Whoa upon rereading that truly makes no sense.

I threaten people. That's my problem. I overwhelm people with my Mensa-esque intelligence, my stunning Cate Blanchett (not Winslett) look and my probing questions. Ack! When I saw my co-worker's face I recognized that freaky sudden realization that oh I need to go elsewhere. Of course when Lou Grant did that she followed up with offering a position a few days later but still there have been other situations in which my job has gone bad somehow or I have felt unwelcome oh woe is me this is ridiculous. Do you sense the defensive tone? Someone might actually read this and judge me and be like ooh why didn't they like her at that school and now even when I have a good situation I am a nervous goddamn wreck.

That's all folks. Psychopharm appointment tomorrow - no shit.

Post Script: Seinfeld rerun tonight was perhaps the funniest episode I've ever seen: Kramer stopped wearing underwear, Jerry dated a white woman who pretended to be Chinese, George's dad - Jerry Stiller - had a lawyer who wore a cape, and Elaine ruined her friend's life. I could just add: and while watching, Lucy convinced herself that her job was going down the tubes.

Gimme Fred and Ethel.

I am writing instead of watching the SuperBowl - ha! I would rather watch Desperate Housewives and I do not like Desperate Housewives. I would rather watch Mitt Romney and John McCain have a debate and I dislike both of them immensely. I would not rather watch Hilary and Obama because I am a traitor, a fake, a massive hypocrite. I do not like Hilary because she was for the war, she gives me a headache, and worst of all, her goddamn husband would be in the White House controlling shit and that's weird because he was already The President, right?

So I am not the perfect product of women' college. I don't feel guilty. No, no, no, ack, yes, okay I do. Is it not prescribed that I vote for Hilary? I adored Geraldine Ferraro, I swear! She was smart, down-to-earth, righteous. She absolutely did not talk about the "HBT" ("human being time") she had with her husband. That was then, this is now, and I am disappointed. A Republican friend (yes I have one) asked me today what Obama's positions really are. I admit that I don't exactly know, apart from opposing the war, but I really like what he says. I know he's progressive and intelligent and all-the-stuff-I-am, I think?

Perhaps I am a political ignoramus. I did go to the Obama web site a few weeks ago to become more well-versed with his policies. It was so fucking boring I could feel my brain dry up a bit as I read. Do I remember what it said? Hell, no! It was like reading a history textbook, a task I never succeeded at, unless it was one paragraph on a page with a lot of photos and a penciled-in moustache on a dead white guy.

But I digress. I do read the paper and I am familiar with what's going on politically and I cannot embrace the joy of Hilary Clinton's candidacy. Reign in the husband, Lady! Ethel and Fred both had strong personalities, but she didn't let him weigh in on Lucy's dilemmas. I've had mixed feelings about Hilary ever since her husband was elected and she began to work on health care. I was like 'hold the phone,' who elected her? Now it just keeps going like that, with blurred boundaries between the two of them. I had a crazy-ass principal years ago - I've had a few - whose unemployed husband joined a meeting she had with a group of teachers. None of the teachers knew what to say when the guy offered his advice, but they were too polite to question his presence. I have not been accused of being too polite - ever - and unless we start electing co-presidents, this is wrong.

On the proverbial second thought, perhaps it's not so different from Bush/Cheney. Hill/Bill. They could run for president and vice president together. I'd like to see the husband as the VP in the old VP style: no real power and we never hear from him. I'd particularly like a genuine First Gentleman, in the tradition of the many First Ladies before him. Now there's a concept I could embrace: the 'pussy-whipped' former president in an outfit by a famous designer giving interviews to Ladies Home Journal. He could start a controversial campaign against drugs or in favor of children reading. The style pages would publish articles on his hair color and choice of ties.

The Clintons are both extra-intelligent, but there's something sneaky that makes me queasy and uneasy. I'd rather think about football. And I don't like football.

Neuroses, Ho!

I am walking around one big goddamn regret after another. I just spent all of this time looking back at old posts because a new friend, Sway, is going to look at my blog and maybe she'll discover what an ass I am. I started a new job and people seem to think I am intelligent over there. Well now my cover's blown! Plus: maybe I should have exercised a bit over the past twenty years. Or even this morning, I could have read the paper more carefully so I would be more politically attuned. I truly obsess over all of the millions of things I could have done or said. Another friend said 'shoulda coulda woulda,' as if I should just forget it all. But my regrets are like a map of my neuroses and without my neuroses, well, would I be the same gal?

There is no way I could be as pseudo-anxious as Ally McBeal, who I loved to hate, except when I was hating the other people on the show. Remember when Peter McNichol was on that Family show in the seventies with his actual sister Kristie who turned out to be a cute lesbian with frosted hair but no tv career? Then there's the mom on Malcolm in the Middle - love her! She's like the best Queen Bitch you ever dreamed you'd be. But I'm more like Leah Remini, the wife on King of Queens, with the UPS guy and Jerry Stiller. She worries about the stupidest crap and what people said and why they said it and whether her ass has gone bad. That's me right there. Except in real life she's a Scientologist and in real life I am prejudiced against Scientology because it seems like Tom Cruise is a freak. Not a good freak - a bad icky freak. Plus, regarding Leah, I would never marry Kevin James. He's too I'm-a-big-hunka-stupidity. I wouldn't mind being related to Jerry Stiller. Maybe I am related to Jerry Stiller. Or maybe I just look like Leah Remini?

Religious Cynicysm, Money & Other Musings

They're expanding the temple where my daughter goes to Hebrew School and we can't afford the dues or the requested building costs, there are some stylin' new clothing items that so suit me right now, and I love my job where I don't make enough money but did receive a bonus for the first time in my life.

The temple thing is crappy because my brother's memorial service was there and every time I go in I feel, well, grief-stricken, and also they are way into doing mitzvahs and I'm like you're a buncha excessively rich people who deign to donate cans, and now they're publishing the names of people who donate cash to the place in their newsletter. And I'm like donate! I am one of the people who gets a major break on dues, for crissake, or god's sake, or somebody's sake. Why do I belong to a religious institution anyway? Rugelah wants to take the classes and have a Bat Mitzvah, and that, actually, is very worthwhile. If only it could be done in another context, but I guess this as progressive as we can be, without having a Buddha Mitzvah in a grassy field.

My fashion frustration is that this whole long-shirt smock-type idea is excellent for me and I bought one in New York (with the money I didn't give the temple, poor Jew that I am) and it looks great. Compliments my still-perky yet small breasts, and covers the tummy bulge aptly. So I went to this excellent fashion site, Bluefly, and all of Sweet Pea's stuff, who I recognized from Project Runway, which we watched at my rich cousin's house because we don't have cable, is so very even-a-middle-aged lady could wear this. Plus Envi/En V had this cool red-and-gray mod circles and snap at the top dress. okay, I admit it's a bit short for me, but I love it anyway. It is just so lovely to have clothing one likes and kinda shitty not to be able to go out and buy it all. How spoiled-brattish of me, but waah!

My life is quite better lately because I am not so heavily grieving for Baby Brother as I was for so long. The trial was the proverbial travesty of justice, but Baby Brother always referred to the corrupt legal system, so it was validation that his anti-establishment stance was right on.

And now I'm off for dresslust.