Resurrection

I turned down a job offer recently.  I'm pretty sure it's the first time I've ever turned down a job, which I'm sure says something about me but I'll leave that discussion for therapy.  Ultimately it was just not the right job for me for right now.  When I told the guy I wasn't taking the job, he said "I wish I was a bigger man, but when I see you at our events and you realize you made a mistake, I'll have a little smile."  Which, you know, fuck you.  But also... I can appreciate the honesty.

So I thought, okay, I know that this was not the right move for me.  But what can I do to really prove it to him that I will not think I made a mistake?  So I'm using his words to motivate me to write every day.  Whether it's an email of substance (more than the usual "hey did you see what that bitch is wearing I can't believe she has a boyfriend fuck my life let's get drinks later"), a therapeutic "diary" (gag) entry, something creative, or a blog post, I want to put my words onto paper/screen once a day.  And so here I am, resurrecting this blog.

Is this the same blog as it was 3 years ago?  Probably not, considering that my last post was about Oscar nominations.  But I know I had some winners in there.  What it will be moving forward, I have no idea.  I'm sitting here with my glass of wine (small aside: how the fuck do you pick wine if you don't really know anything about wine?  If I'm in a restaurant, I choose the second least expensive option [though my friend Lauren once told me that restaurants count on suckers like me and that the cheapest wine is usually just as good if not better than the second least expensive one]; if I'm in the supermarket, I look for something that's on sale [normally $7.99 and now $5.99 - I'm buying a case!); and if I'm in a wine shop, it's straight up what's cheapest and has a funny label.  Right now it's Hey Mambo "Bistro Style Wine" [I'm not kidding] from the grocery store and it's hitting the spot.  Oh shit.  Where was I??), and ... yeah.  That parenthetical really took it out of me.

So get ready for funny anecdotes about people deleting their okcupid profiles when I message them, making out with tiny Asians in a drunken stupor, and any and all racist fun I can get into at work.  And for the English majors out there, yes, I too hate that I couldn't get that list to work grammatically, but I'm too drunk to care.

Mazel Tov! (ew... Jews)