First, I must apologize because I planned to post about Bond No. 9 West Broadway today, but it's not going to happen. You see, Monday was a bad day at work, and yesterday was even worse, and although I am an optimist by nature, I'm hedging my bets that today won't be much better. Simply put, West Broadway is such a lovely scent that I don't want to associate it with bad times. I think it might be my Bond. I can't risk it.
So instead I'm wearing a combo, a sample of the No. 9 (blackberry and vanilla musk) body cream from Trish McEvoy and Ligne St. Barth Vanille. I'm in full comfort mode.
But back to my bad days at work. I'm in a brand new job with the same company. I'm even working with the same project team I worked with as a writer. Only now, I manage the project. Or, I'm learning how to manage the project. A career change is both scary and exciting, especially when everyone you know is watching. But it also brings some ugly things out of the woodwork, like nasty co-workers with loud honking voices who don't know the difference between ignorance (not knowing something) and incompetence (knowing something, but being unable to execute that thing). A woman at work has decided to launch a smear campaign against me, telling the world I am incompetent, which I am not. I am ignorant. I am learning a new job. Loud Honking Woman, who I'll refer to as MISS THANG from here on, needs a vocabulary lesson. And a smack upside the noggin. But it's not my place to give her either.
I have ways to make myself feel better, though. One way is I just picture Miss Thang the way I saw her once, in low rise jeans with her panties coming out the top. No, no, not in that show-your-thong-to-the-world way. In the other way, the way we all fear. Her panties were riding up so high, she seriously must have been giving herself a whopper of a wedgie. And she was walking around at work like that. Where everyone could see. Heh.
Another way I make myself feel better is coming home and reading blogs. It's my escape. Last night, between work and book club (where we discussed Dr. Zhivago, which is not exactly the most uplifting book in the world...but you never hear the term "real knee-slapper" applied to Russian literature, do you? Unless it's Gary Shteyngart, but I haven't read him yet.), I sat down to catch up on a few blogs. One I recently got hooked on is called Melissa C. Morris. She generally just writes about her life and things she knows, and yesterday she had a post about some of the blogs she likes to read, so clicked on the first one in the list, The QC Report.
I read a little of the latest post, and then my eyes roamed over to the "About Me" box on the side. It said "Quinn Cummings." Quinn Cummings? Not THE Quinn Cummings? Do you know who I am talking about? She was Lucy in The Goodbye Girl with Marsha Mason and Richard Dreyfuss. That Quinn Cummings. Holy cow! I remember going to see that with my mom right around the time my parents split up. I think I was seven. I loved the smartass daughter Lucy. I wanted to be her. I think my mom would agree, I at least got the smartass thing down. Anyway, apparently she no longer acts, but the acting world's loss is the blogging world's gain, because the woman is hilarious. I hope she's working on a book. She should. I read as many posts as I could before I had to leave, and laughed out loud and felt better, which makes it the second time Quinn Cummings has helped me out when I was feeling low in my life. You must check out her blog, friends. It's laugh-out-loud funny.
Hi ho, hi ho, it's off to work I go. Watch out, Miss Thang.
