December, 2014

Dec 1st, 2014

My departure was the headline at the office today.  Eric was first in line to congratulate me.  Thank god I am only five short months away from never having to set eyes on his featherweight witch-like fingers again.

I took a break from any kind of Facebook and/or social media activities.  I fear that the internet somehow knows that I was unchaste and any kind of online browsing for pleasure will betray my confidence.

 

Dec 2nd, 2014

I spent the morning justifying my sexual actions with Arthur.  Coming to the full realization that I have slept with someone other than Ohranj was a meaningful first step.  After acceptance, I forgave myself, as I cannot live a life torturing myself, especially when Ohranj is finding comfort in the arms of the despicable Christy.  I have decided to move forward, however more cautiously.   I vowed to be chaste and selective with whom I decide to share my lust but in the mean time, see no harm in being with anyone that is already on my short list of lovers.

After work, my mother swung by my apartment in order to resolutely maintain that she was not playing favorites between Maxine and I on Black Friday. However, not long after we sat down to coffee, she fawned over my newly-found fashion sense.  In order to prove that I could not be complimented into forgiveness, I ominously warned her that playing favorites can have far-reaching negative effects on children and I then slowly scratched my face.  To this she retorted with a deep sigh and then suggested we put together a nice new look for her on New Year’s Eve.  I whipped out my Mary Kay shades all the while mentioning that a flawless face began with a vigorous anti-aging and correction routine.  She bought the most advanced package of creams and serum for $200.

While I have decided to let sleeping dogs lie on the topic of Black Friday, I’m certain her purchase was a direct result of the guilt and shame she feels over Friday’s incident.

 

Dec 3rd, 2014

After work, I visited Ethan Baker.  He is getting stronger and stronger and is predicted to be moved out of the ICU tomorrow.  The best report, however, is that his tragic accident will keep him from being sent back to Afghanistan for a minimum of 3 months.  I admit, I was overcome with emotion upon hearing this news and let tears of joy flow from my eyes.  Could I have such luck that our relationship be given a real chance?

 

 Dec, 4th, 2014

Ethan Baker quizzed me today about the “other Iris” that works at my office.  At first, I assumed he was delirious from the painkillers and anti inflammatory drugs currently being administered, so I politely smiled and assured him over and over that I was the only Iris.  But then, he was able to quote a phrase I muttered to his mother after she was hit by a car with complete clarity.  He inquired, “Are you the Iris that told my mother that some people just lack the respect and common sense needed in order to safely cross the street?”

I vividly remember when I said that to Jenny.  It was right after she was barking orders at me on how to do her job while she was laid-up.  I’m sure she conveniently forgot to mention that part of the conversation to Ethan or that when she was struck by a car, she was probably texting on her iPhone.  Obviously his mother unabashedly badmouthed me to anyone that would listen.

I pleaded ignorance to Ethan and I believe he bought it, but certainly more revelations will come to light.  Jenny and I had a tumultuous relationship and its entirely evident that the old grouch was incapable of telling whole truths when it came to me.  If I have any hope to win Ethan’s love and affection, I will have to find a better, more plausible explanation as to why there was an Iris in the office in which his mother was not at all fond and how it was that I had forgotten about her when earlier inquired.

It’s amazing how much Jenny Baker continues to add stress to my life, even when six feet under.

 

Dec 5th, 2014

I went over my Christmas budget while at work today and I fear I have much less spending money than anticipated.  I telephoned the gym and requested they reimburse me the club dues for October, November, and December, pleading that I have been suffering from a rare disorder in which I’m unable to correctly chronicle time.  I whimpered that had I been able to mentally grasp how much time had passed since my last workout, I surely would have cancelled my membership.  They were dead set against any kind of a refund.

This soured my mood for the rest of the day and I wanted nothing more than to go home early.  However, given that I am out of sick, personal, and vacation days until the end of the year, I sat grumpily at my desk.  I admit, my temper got the best of me and for no reason, other than to be grating, I chastised Patrick from HR when he strode by my desk. I couldn’t help but ask him whether or not he believed our company offered the proper amount of grief counseling in order that the coworkers Jenny left behind properly cope.

I didn’t hear from Arthur at all today.  I found this to be a bit usual.  Could he be the type of unfeeling person that takes advantage of a young woman’s purity and flees?  Up until now, he has never acted the slightest amount dastardly.

 

Dec 6th, 2014

I sat around my apartment today trying to brainstorm anything to get for my parents and sister for Christmas.  Even though I’m not able to afford to buy anything just yet, I decided that I would purchase an antique globe for my father, a spectacular necklace for my mother, and a Ninja blender for my sister.  I further decided that I would make chocolate peanut butter balls for Ethan Baker and Tamar.  Arthur would be receiving a gift certificate at Everest for our dining pleasure, if, that is, I ever hear from him again.

I scoured the internet looking for any kind of evidence as to who, where, or what is keeping Arthur from contacting me.  My search divulged just one clue:  He has not posted anything on social media since Sunday.  If he is trying build an elaborate rouse in order to elude me, he has succeeded. I decided that I shall wait at least one more day before I start any kind of character assassination or smear campaign.

I read an update on Facebook that Ethan Baker has moved out of the ICU.  I am a bundle of nerves about visiting him again.  What else has his dead mother disclosed about our turbulent relationship to him and just how extreme were her exaggerations?  Did she go so far as to create deliberate falsehoods?

 

Dec 7th, 2014

I abruptly received the worst possible news about Arthur this morning.  At approximately 8 A.M., I was awakened by an excessive pounding on my door.  I quickly sprang out of bed and sprinted to the door as I thought perhaps the intense pounding was Ohranj, delirious to win me back.  I was floored when I opened the door as saw four agitated Chicago police officers.   Three of the officers rushed in, searching high and low for a one Ronnie Welchel, while the one remaining held me in the foyer.  I insisted I had no idea who Ronnie Welchel was, however, my cries went unheard until after a search of the apartment was complete.  When the officers calmed, they showed me a mug shot of a man with Arthur’s face, but Ronnie Welchel’s name, causing me to faint into the arms of the nearest agent.

Arthur Knipp, or Ronnie Welchel,  it seems, is a world-class thief.  He was never the gentle, well-read, wine salesman as he portrayed, but rather an armed robber that participated in crimes ranging from carjacking to extortion.  The authorities were able to track him to my home through my IP address, since he used my laptop when he logged into Fitness Blender.

I’m so sick with worry that I can hardly think straight.  If anyone were ever to find out that I dated and have had sexual relations with a fugitive, Expresso may be destroyed.  Even the tiniest blemish on a CEO’s reputation can have disastrous effects that last well into the future.

Furthermore, I’m nervous as a cat that I may develop Stockholm Syndrome given my open and generous heart.  While my number one priority is Expresso, Stockholm Syndrome is no more controllable than an untreated cancer growing within your body.  I asked the detectives if they could send an officer and therapist from the special victims unit, however, they rebuffed my request, insisting the SVU only gets called in when people such as I have actually been victimized.  By this logic, I suppose they wouldn’t want to send anyone over to help Elizabeth Smart cope either.

 

Dec 8th, 2014

After careful thought and consideration, I have decided that I am going to give Ohranj Expresso stickers for Christmas.  While I’m still raw about over our last correspondence, I would forever regret Ohranj not being the first to receive the wonderful stickers.  It seems short-sighted to slight the man that was my best friend and lover during all of my teenaged years, who will almost certainly be my husband, simply because we were on a hiatus at the same time that I was on the precipice of great wealth and success.  I simply can’t imagine having to explain to our children and grandchildren why he wasn’t the one to post the first Expresso selfie ever.

While I don’t have the wonderful little adhesives ready for mass distribution, I figured I could get something together for Ohranj, even if it is “hello, my name is” introductory stickers with hand written “I think therefore I am ________” scrawled on top.

I’m grateful that I found out the truth about Arthur, or Ronnie, before Christmas.  I would have simply died if the first person to post an Expresso selfie was a deceptive, repugnant evildoer.

 

Dec 9th, 2014

I looked around the office to see if I could find anything that could be used as Expresso stickers for Ohranj’s Christmas present.  I found some old mailing labels for #10 envelopes in the copy room.  With just a little more digging, I uncovered some shipping labels, that were a bit bigger and more square in shape.  I sat and weighed the pros and cons of each label before coming to the following conclusion:  The mailing labels with the more rectangular shape were more desirable than that of the square. If placed lengthwise on a coffee cup, they are perfectly readable when taking a sip.  The mailing label also had rounded corners, which I found to be more pleasing than the pointed corners of the  squarer shipping labels. While the square labels cover a larger area, allowing users to be bolder in their Expresso statements, I find them to be a bit ostentatious.  If having a sleek, stylish wardrobe has taught me anything, it is that simple and minimal always look more professional.

Prototyping Expresso stickers has almost left me with more questions than answers.  For example, coffee drinkers come in many ages and tastes.  While professionals will want a sharp, timeless shape adhesive, hipsters might prefer a non-traditional shape, such as a star.  Further, I hadn’t previously taken into consideration that Starbucks brand coffees have sleeves.  This is a major obstacle which I must engineer my way around.

All these new revelations have me wondering, “Should I get a same-gender mentor?”

 

Dec 10th, 2014

We drew names for the office holiday gift exchange today.  I selected Michael Schmidt’s name out of the stocking cap.  I must think long and hard about what to get him, since any gift that I give will likely be telling of both who I am and how I perceive my co-workers.  I want to ensure that I select a gift that is professional, thrilling, and just slightly above our set budget.   I pray that Mitch Fordam our CEO has drawn my name.  Every year, he gets his lucky recipient a gift well above what is expected.

After work, I mustered up enough bravery to go visit Ethan Baker.  I’m still apprehensive to visit him, full of worry on what his mother might have falsely divulged about my character.  Luckily, he was sleeping when I arrived.  I left a hand-written note, explaining that I stopped by but preferred not to interrupt his much needed rest.   Small little notes are wonderful ways to make someone feel special and might serve nicely in my favor.  I thought about going down to the gift shop and buying him a get-well plant, but thought I better not press my luck, lest he awaken during my delivery.

 

Dec 11th, 2014

Arthur was apprehended by the authorities and his picture was splashed on the cover of the Sun-Times and Tribune.  I received calls and private messages from just about all of my Facebook friends inquiring about the publications.  If not for the brown paper bag I kept handy at my desk, I would have hyper ventilated three or four times today.  I am absolutely mortified.

What will the mean for Expresso?  I feel the company of my dreams collapsing right in front of my very eyes.

 

Dec 12th, 2014

Tamar invited me to her company’s holiday party tonight.  I have been feeling very blue and Tamar thought a night out where no one knew about Arthur and me was just what the doctor ordered.  I leapt at the chance to attend.  I chose to wear a lovely floor length gown and matching jacket to impress the advertising experts that would be in attendance.

After we arrived, I asked Tamar to quickly scan the room and point out the CEO.  She said that her company didn’t have a CEO, per se, but that the owner was standing right outside of the men’s room.  I asked his name, which was William.  I then kissed Tamar on the cheek and made a prompt  B-line towards William.  I introduced myself, carefully revealing that I was on the precipice of launching a new product and was hoping to discuss the fine art of persuasion.  If I want the sales of Expresso to thrive, I must ensure proper and effective marketing execution.

William said, “Well, I guess it’s the right mix of the needs of your buyers and the specifics of their personas, isn’t it?  You have already identified these specifics for your product, haven’t you?”

I chortled and exclaimed, “Of course!”

I then quickly changed the subject to the holiday party.  I didn’t want to let on that had I not completed the above mentioned task.  After a couple pleasantries, I went to the ladies room and looked up “personas”  in my pocket dictionary, in case I ran into William again.  The word was excluded.

While I had hoped to glean as much information about marketing as I could at the party, I chose to leave early.   All of the creative types were smoking marijuana, which made me uncomfortable.  I understand that some like to throw caution to the wind, but I normally show restraint when it comes to cannabis.  A case of the munchies is a very real thing, and I didn’t want to unnecessarily eat due to a contact high.

 

Dec 13th, 2014

I had a long night of tossing and turning over the definition of “persona”.  I wanted nothing more than to jump out of bed, find out what a persona was, and then get to work on Expresso’s personas.  However, I was confined to my warm bed since my apartment has been dreadfully cold as of late.  I admit, my mind wandered to the warmth I felt with Arthur.

I finally willed myself out of bed at 7 A.M., immediately googled, and discovered that a persona is the specific gender, age, profession, title, education level, shopping habits, and reason for purchase of the identifiable groups of people who buy your products.  Anyone that is looking to corner the market with their product, must know this information for the different groups that make up the majority of their buyers.  After much thought and consideration, I decided that I am lucky enough to have invented a product that in and of itself is a form of viral marketing, thus excluding me from the daunting task of profiling everyone in the world.

 

Dec 14th, 2014

I took a chance and visited Ethan Baker today.  He was in absolute tears.  He expressed a deep sadness of entering the holiday season without his mother.  It was a true test of my spirit and patience to sit and listen to him talk lovingly about the old sorehead.   I tried to sway the conversation to Afghanistan, but that only exaggerated his mood.  The extent of his injuries are such that he may never be deployed back to his beloved combat position.  He feels as though he has let down his comrades, his superior officers, and his country.  I assured him that neither United States civilians nor military would ever think such things, but he was inconsolable.

I stayed in his room and held his dear hand for hours, until he fell into a deep sleep.  I tiptoed out and vowed to return every day.

I must admit, I am quite disappointed in myself.  I cringe when I think I left that poor soul alone to dwell in pain while I sat wondering whether or not he had misgivings about me.  I swear, instead of a moral compass I need a self-image compass.

 

Dec 15th, 2014

I’m in a complete panic.  Two Chicago police detectives came to my office today in order to discuss Ronnie Welchel aka, Arthur Knipp.   I had thought that Arthur was a fugitive, on the lam from crimes of yesteryear.  However, I have been informed that he was an active criminal during our brief courtship!  The detectives wanted to know every detail about our relationship.  Without thinking, I told them that I would have to go through my blog to refresh my memory.  Their eyes immediately came to life and they insisted that I print out all pages.  I pleaded with the officers to allow me to first launch my company, but they we unwavering in their request.

After the detectives left, I sprinted to the offices of our media relations manager, Alex Clark, and corporate lawyer, Cristina Hernandez, in order to discuss representation.  I promised if they helped me now that I would be forever in debt and ensured them employment at Expresso, once up and running.  They both declined despite my ocean-sized tears.

I am horrified.  If “The Secret of Success” is entered into evidence, without doubt, a lowly, unscrupulous charlatan will steal my idea.  I MUST find a way to ensure that Expresso remains a closely guarded secret.  I hope and pray that tomorrow Alex and Cristina will have better news for me.  If they don’t agree to help me, I don’t know what I will do.  Hiring a PR team at this point is financially out of the question and trying to find a lawyer that will work pro bono will be exhausting.

I went to visit Ethan Baker, but cut my visit short.   Even on my best day, I can only endure so much of his never-ending diatribe about his glorious mother.  On a day like today, sustaining a false warmness towards Jenny was virtually impossible.

 

Dec 16th, 2014

Today, in a bold maneuver, I posted the following to my Facebook page.  I cannot run from my past and despite the humiliation I feel now, I know that in admitting to the public my relationship with Arthur, I will emerge victorious.  I shall not remain silent and allow my future to crumble!

“Dear Friends, Acquaintances, and Family,

As many of you know, I have recently been associated with a man named Arthur Knipp.  To my shock and horror, I learned this repugnant man is and was a participant in organized crime.  His real name is Ronnie Welchel.   I would like to assure each and every one of you that if this reputed mobster had ever been the least bit honest with me, I would have had nothing to do with him short of turning him over to the proper authorities.  I promise I knew nothing about his background, character, or criminal record.

Like all strong women, I too shall overcome the harsh sting of deception with grace and dignity, while earning back your trust.  I promise that given the chance I shall live up to the hard-earned reputation that I enjoyed prior to meeting Mr. Welchel.  I have always believed that both good and truth prevail.  Please, I beg of each of you to open your heart and minds enough to allow the facts of this case be aired, before judging me on my current and future endeavors, whether it be personal or professional.   Many CEO’s of highly successful companies have been persecuted, deceived, and fallen victim to evildoers and I pray that the public keeps this in mind, should I ever find myself the head of a Fortune 500 corporation.

Lastly, I would like to thank the hard work of the Chicago Police Department that have worked so hard to keep evildoers off the streets, keeping our city, women, and children safe.

Please, I implore all of you to share this post.

With great admiration and respect,

Iris Elizabeth Cutter”

 

Dec 17th, 2014

I can’t believe Christmas is only a week away.  I looked into both my finances and the prices of the gifts I have decided to give and am flabbergasted.  Is the price of anything reasonable anymore??

The wonderful gifts I had planned on purchasing for my parents, sister, Tamar, and Ethan are at a much higher premium than I had anticipated.   Hence I have made the following improvisations. Instead of getting my father an antique globe to add to his collection, I have purchased a package of drink coasters with vintage globe adornments.  Rather than a Ninja Blender for my sister, I am going to give her a self-made holiday fruit basket.  I can use a wonderful cask that was delivered to our office and then buy her oranges, apples, and pears from the grocery store.  Tamar and Ethan will still receive homemade chocolate covered peanut butter balls, but I will have to find an alternate container solution.

A gift to get my mother is the biggest conundrum.  I feel like jewelry is harder to find at a low-cost.  I will most likely have to get her something other than a stylish bracelet or timeless earrings.  The question is, “What does an old, drunk, washed-up actress really want?”

 

Dec 18th, 2014

Cristina Hernandez walked up to my desk today and advised that I should take down the post to my Facebook page regarding my relationship with Ronnie Welchel.  She mentioned that I should not be publicly posting anything about an on-going criminal investigation.  Sure, NOW she wants to give me legal advice.

 

Dec 19th, 2014

I’m counting down the days in which I have before I can return to calling in sick to work again. January 1st cannot come soon enough.  If I don’t have a complete week free of “j’obligations”, I shall go mad.

I’m still racking my mind for any gift within the proper price range for my mother.  Perhaps I should simply go to the pound and bring home a filthy, disease infested, beast to go with her current mangy pet, Iffy?

 

Dec 20, 2014

My sister Maxine came over to my apartment today begging me to go Christmas shopping with her.  She was desperate to find a decadent gift for her boyfriend. She dragged me out in the cold for hours while she went back and forth between watches, colognes, golf accessories, and alcohol flasks.  Listening to her drivel on about the minutiae of each gift was nothing short of sheer torture.   When I suggested that she would not find a more thrilling gift than archery lessons, she scoffed and said she should have just asked our mother.  I’m not in the least bit surprised.  Both have the uncanny knack of falling short on taste when it comes to the finer things in life.

After shopping I was too drained to do anything else with what was left of my day.  I sat at home, turned on the television and used the new luxury back scratching device that I secretly bought while at a one of the countless masculine boutiques that Maxine and I visited.  Why it has taken me all these years to discover this glorious, life-altering tool is beyond all logic.

 

Dec 21st, 2014

I visited Ethan Baker today.  I admit, going to the hospital, even to see someone in which I greatly care, has become mundane and humdrum.   In an effort to invigorate my holiday spirit, I wandered down to the children’s ward, hoping that there would be some sort of deviation from the norm, if not merriment.

Oh, dear blog, the juvenile patients were nothing short of miraculous! Seeing their bright shining faces was truly inspiring and brought me to tears many times during my visit.  I made a pledge to each and every child that all would have a job waiting for them at Expresso, if they so desired to be part of one of the most influential companies in the world.  In exchange for their employment, they simply had to promise a speedy recovery.   With these youngsters on board, Expresso will fly higher than even I dared to previously dream.

My visit with the children immediately squelched my seasonal affective disorder.   I was able to return home and complete the odious task of doing my laundry as well as get cracking on my famous holiday peanut butter balls.  And to think, just this morning there was a fleeting moment in which I thought I might not distribute the much beloved treats this Christmas.

 

Dec 22nd, 2014

Today was our holiday gift exchange at the office and like a imbecile, I had forgotten to buy something for my recipient, Michael Schmidt.  I had toyed with the idea of dumping some of the office M&M’s into a gift bag, before I decided to briefly sneak out of the office to get him something more substantial.  I rushed to the nearest Starbucks where I purchased a lovely mug.  The irony of the gift was not lost on me.  However, given that I only had a pinch of time, I had to overlook the fact that ceramic mugs were a direct competitor with Expresso and buy him the trinket.

Michael seemed mildly touched by my purchase.  Apparently gift cards are the new black.

I received a copy of the movie, “A Christmas Story”.  Upon opening the DVD, I immediately broke down and sobbed as watching this holiday classic was a cherished annual event between Ohranj and I.

 

Dec 23rd, 2014

I slothfully traveled to the office today.  Our office was just as frigid as the outside temperature.  I did everything humanly possible to keep myself warm, including frequenting the break room every fifteen minutes in order to plunge my frosty hands into a bath of hot water.  I swear they keep the temperature in the office at a tepid 65 degrees just to save a couple of bucks.

After noon, I walked around our empty office and daydreamed that it was Expresso’s corporate headquarters, inspiring me to ponder the layout and design.  I want Expresso to be a place that both invigorates and empowers my employees.  I definitely do not want to my staff to feel the same lack of enthusiasm that plagues me every time I set foot into this office.   Between the beige walls, grey cubicles and the energy-saving motion detection lights, the office to which I drag myself, day in and day out, resembles a dungeon for white-collar clones.  The drab colors non-verbally scream, “Leave your creativity and individuality at the door!”  The shade I select to adorn the walls of Expresso will be a direct reflection on who I am as a CEO and a woman.  Hence, I need to select a color that is feminine, powerful, refreshing, sensitive, and mysterious.  Right off the bat, I thought a nice gold would be the perfect choice.  Although one of the boldest colors, it is also a metallic neutral, thus ensuring a complementary pairing with anything that I might be wearing.

After work, I briefly went to visit Ethan Baker, which proved fruitful as the gift shop at the hospital was selling delightful little holiday boxes, perfect containers for the much anticipated yearly peanut butter balls I made.

 

Dec 24th, 2014

The crotchety nurses at the hospital refused to allow me to handout the chocolate covered peanut butter balls I made for the sick children today.  They went on and on about health concerns around foods that were not manufactured or packaged in establishments that adhered to strict health codes.  While I was not agreeable, I didn’t object.  When I was growing up, I always detested that my mother kept the cat box litter in our kitchen.  I believe that I suffered through several bouts of Toxoplasmosis during my childhood because of this.  While I am thorough in my cleanliness and sterility, I understand that there are many others that are oblivious to common sense and decency surrounding food preparation.

Ethan and Tamar, however, were overjoyed to receive the treats.  When visiting Ethan, I mindfully included in my purse, the DVD of “A Christmas Story” which we played shortly after he opened his sweets.  I took Ethan’s hand in mine as we silently viewed the wonderful holiday tale, which eventually evolved into me gently caressing his forearm.  He did not pull away once.  My heart was racing when I left the hospital, so much so, that I almost forgot to put together my Expresso stickers for Ohranj.

 

Dec 25th, 2014

I woke up this Christmas morn, made myself a cup of coffee and leisurely scratched my back while I waited for my father to pick me up for the Cutter family Christmas celebration.  I vowed to myself to make today a treasured day, rather than partake in any kind of self-pitying or wallowing activities over not sharing this special day with Ohranj or the Julius family.  I promised to use all avenues of self-delusion, self-soothing, even, if necessary, self-scratching in order to stay happy.  When my father arrived to pick me up, I decided to announce to him that I had a new boyfriend.  Without missing a beat, he asked if I had done a background check.  I did not find this the least bit amusing, but stuck to my promise.

As usual, the Cutter household was in complete disarray when my father and I arrived.  My mother waited for the last possible moment to decorate our house with festive garlands and holiday lights.  A quick scan of the house showed haphazardly placed, half-emptied, musty boxes, tangled lights, and mangled wreaths and tinsel.  I suppose it made no difference, given that Maxine still opens her gifts with a fury that resembles a dog trying to unlodge a plastic container from her head. I, on the other hand, open gifts with the class and dignity of an aristocrat.  I’m always careful not to tear or lacerate the wrapping paper, no matter how eager I am to find out what’s lurking inside.

Amid all this chaos, I admit, I found a moment of complete joy.  I received the best present for which I could have hoped!  My mother and father bought me arching lessons at an indoor bow range.  I was truly surprised that they were able to get a gift that was exactly what I wanted.  I can only assume that Maxine mentioned this gift to my parents from our shopping experience a week or so ago.  I’m shocked that she was able to take my comment about archery being a great gift for any man and translate it into, “That would be a  great gift for Iris”, given Maxine is incapable of thinking or forming judgements through a process of logic.  In addition to the lessons, I received a photo album, a scented candle, warm socks, and a birthday fortune book from Maxine.  The gifts I gave to my family, coasters to my father, a fruit basket for Maxine, and a gift certificate for my mother at a wine and painting facility, Paint Misbehavin’, were all warmly received.

My jolly Christmas officially ended, when my mother’s treasured beast, Iffy, got a hold of her Christmas cake.  This set off a chain reaction of organic horrors in the house, including, but not limited to, hyperactivity, diarrhea, and uncontrollable vomiting.  I retreated to my bedroom and posted the following note on my door, “Do not enter or disturb for any cause, explanation, or justification of personal wants/needs.”  I was deathly afraid I was going to have to scrub clean a stain, or even worse, Iffy.  While I could hear my father’s low-pitched swearing, I populated my birthday fortune book with the birthdays of the most near and dear people in my life.

 

Dec 26th, 2014

I decided to stay at my parents house for an additional day.  I didn’t want to return home to my empty apartment and think about Ohranj all day.  Since Iffy was now weakened, he could cause no real harm or disorder.  Further, from the smell of the house, it was obvious that every square inch had been showered with bleach, easing my mind from thinking that I would be stricken with any kind of E-Coli infection.

In the spirit of the holidays, I decided that I would prepare the family’s lunch which required a visit to the Jewel grocery store.  The excursion was most disappointing.  The store did not carry Natural Ovens bread, Bulls-Eye barbeque sauce, or Carroll Shelby’s Chili Kit.  I couldn’t help but notice that there were over fifteen varieties of Pepperidge Farm loaves,  ten kinds of KC Masterpiece barbeque sauces, and five types of chili spice packages by McCormick.  Is the world coming to a point in which only snobbish, over-priced grocery chains carry the exquisite brands that I have come to know and trust?

 

Dec 27th, 2014

I pleaded with my father to give me a ride home today.  He was insistent that since I hadn’t more than a gift bag size load of gifts that the bus would suffice.  Maxine said she would take the bus with me, squelching any chance that my father would get off his lazy ass and drive me.  While walking to the bus stop, she confided to me that she has been officially served with eviction papers from her old landlord.  She whined that if the ruling wasn’t in her favor (and it won’t be) she would not only have a tarnish her credit, but also be ordered to payout the previous and current month’s rent, totaling over $1600. I feel incredibly lucky that I wasn’t inflicted with the foolish, impractical, and senseless reasoning that plagues my sister.

After I arrived home, I spent the remainder of the evening researching the meaning of different colors for Expresso’s office walls.  A firm grasp on color psychology is needed if I am to design an office of free thinking and energized employees.

 

Dec 28th, 2014

I am, in all sincerity, growing largely concerned over not having anyone or anything to share my New Year’s Eve.  Are none of my high school or college friends having a gathering?  I haven’t even heard as much as a peep out of Tamar and her plans.  Does she know something I don’t?  Has the awful Christy Calm tarnished my name and reputation with deliberate falsehoods in order that I be shunned?

I can only remember one other time in my life where I was not included in a New Year’s Eve celebration.  I was during my second year at college.   I attended a local campus and had fallen in with an uppity crowd.  I admit I was insecure.   In an effort to impress my newly found pompous friends I falsely revealed that my parents house was actually my home, which I was able to purchase through lucrative investing at the tender age of five.  I humbly disclosed that in my maiden voyage into the stock market, I selected to invest in AOL, which thrust me into an obscene amount of money.  This little white lie, quickly grew out of control, as the spoiled brats insisted we have parties at my abode every weekend.  I tried to devise ways for my parents and Maxine to leave the house but it was of no use.  They were constantly home, foiling my charade.  However, the nail in my “I’m rich” coffin was hammered in by Neil Shepard, when he announced at our Winter Formal that AOL was not publically traded until 1991, when we all would have been 7 years old.  I was humiliated and speechless.  I tearfully pleaded for forgiveness, but not a single one of the toffee-nosed snobs ever had anything else to do with me.  I spent New Year’s Eve in my bedroom, scratching myself into a bloody mess while the rest of the world celebrated.

I’m petrified that I may have to re-live that experience in just three short days.   I pray that tomorrow, Tamar reveals that she has plans for the both of us.

 

Dec 29th, 2014

Only one more day of work before I can start to use sick, personal, and vacation days!  I can finally see light  at the end of what seemed like a never ending tunnel.

What’s even better news is that I will not be alone on New Year’s Eve as I have decided to be with Ethan Baker until the clock strikes midnight!  I can’t believe I was up all night tossing and turning over being alone on New Year’s Eve and it never once dawned on me that I should be with Ethan.

I can only attribute this complete lapse of reason and sanity to not being with Ohranj during this holiday season.  I wrote the following note to myself and delicately placed it into my purse:  “Even a year or two is a drop in the bucket compared to eternity.”  Now, any time I feel myself slipping into melancholy, for any reason, I shall read this note, reminding myself that soon, Ohranj and I will be together again.    In the meantime, I see no harm in entertaining other suitors.

 

Dec 30th, 2014

Today, after emerging from the shower, I noticed that my Adam’s apple is notably large.  Upon recognition of this freakish deformity, I instantly googled, “engorged Adam’s apple in women.”  Conditions from hypothyroidism to cancer to glandular disease arose, sending me into a complete tailspin.  Even as I type, I feel faint.  I drank over 5 glasses of Throat Coat tea and still see no shrinkage in my neck.

I called my mother and laid into her barbarian animal and his Christmas day antics.  I’m certain that disgusting stain on mankind has likely weakened my immune system with some sort of lower gastrointestinal canine malady, thus paving the way for this dormant disease to blossom.  To make matters worse, my mom had absolutely no sympathy for me.  Instead of rushing over to my apartment to stroke my hair and cradle me in her arms, she blankly asked, “Are you done?” when I finished explaining that any decent and reasonable person would agree that Iffy should be euthanized.

This will absolutely put a crimp in my new years eve plans with Ethan.  I cannot possibly visit him in good conscience.  I turned to Facebook, to see if there were any parties for me to attend, since this will possibly be my last New Year’s Eve ever.

When I layed down to bed, I prayed for God to take mercy on me, and make my last year of my life peaceful and as pain free as possible.

 

Dec 31st, 2014

I called Tamar today and insisted she come over and measure my laryngeal prominence.  The protuberance is 2 inches wide!   Tamar insisted it looked usual, however, it’s so large and distracting that it looks as though I ate a sweet potato whole and it has permanently lodged itself into my throat.  I rummaged through my closet, desperately searching for turtlenecks, scarves, and gaudy necklaces in order to hide my disfigurement, but I found nothing.  When I started dressing for success in October, I pared down my wardrobe to the essentials, i.e., suit separates, collared silk blouses, and fitted t-shirts.   Now, on New Year’s Eve, I find myself with absolutely nothing to wear.

Luckily, I remembered Tamar had a burgundy A-line wool dress with a polo neck.  I pleaded with her to zip home and return with it.  She complied, so I quickly pushed her out the door to retrieve the frock.   While she was out, I laid out my blue suit skirt, the one I purchased for my Thanksgiving cocktail social, as a gesture of gratitude. I scrawled out a quick  thank you note and delicately placed it on top.  If I had known how long it was going to take for her to get back to my apartment, I would not have gushed with quite the amount of appreciation as the note expressed.

After I dressed, Tamar and I drank the gin and tonic I had in my house and I then tagged along with her to a party in the Wicker Park neighborhood.  I had a wonderful time and met many proper men.  However, I was careful not to lead anyone on since I didn’t want to unmask the horrendous bulb in my neck.

 

 

 

 

 

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