Miss Begotten is one of my pet names for myself, for Southern Gothic reasons best kept to myself. Miss Begotten tries to speak plainly, but sometimes she tends to babble -- parenthetically, of course. It's never my intention to offend (and usually that's true - except on those [maybe not so] rare occasions when I mean it very friggin' much) but it sometimes happens, so if you're unusually easily offended...
Monday, June 21, 2010
My Karma Is Buzzard Pickins
I am cursed. I am soooooo cursed. You are never going to believe this, mainly because it sounds more like fiction -- really bad fiction -- than fact. I'm sitting in my apartment reading Saturday afternoon, just chillin' and minding my own business -- all defenses down, naturally -- when the phone rings. I answer, and it's -- get thee behind me, Satan -- Skank Girl. She says, "Guess what?!" And I, non-clairvoyant fool that I am, say, "What?" She says, "I'm going to work where you are. We'll be working together again. Won't that be great?!" I swallow a heart palpitation, swear silently, fan myself, and try to think where the rum bottle is, and then I say, "Wow! How'd that happen?" Then I silently cuss again, filthily this time, because it's also for the stupid, useless karma fairies who are probably laid up in a dark corner somewhere swilling my rum.
Skank Girl proceeds to tell me that she'd answered an ad for a secretary at my new firm and they called her in for an interview Friday and gave her the job. What this means is that the secretary who's been out sick for a long time is being replaced, and SG will, effective next Monday, be sharing my office with me. I can, of course, keep her busy doing scut work for me but, I ask you, how long is it going to be before the attorneys realize she can't do ... legal work? She can't even speak the English language correctly, much less type something in it. Her new job will be secretary to the senior partner. So, okay, he's 82 and well on his way to senility, but she's not going to be able to fool him for long. I can't forewarn them. I just hope to hell I'm not judged guilty by association.
I am cursed. I can see now that I'll have SG on my tail for the rest of my life. Next time I get married, she'll have to be a bridesmaid. If I change jobs again, naturally they'll have an opening for her, too. If I croak, I'm sure she'll be giving the eulogy. I'm just thankful I'm too old to have any more babies because, God knows, she'd have to be their godmother. After that call from hell, I had myself a giagundo banana split. It tasted good but I know it didn't save me from the curse.
I'm making it known right here and now that there's a huge reward to the first person who can cure my diseased karma and remove the Curse of the Skank Girl from my head. Please -- start working on it right this minute! By all that's holy, I'll make it worth your while.
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7 comments:
I DO have an extra Voodoo doll, try to get a lock of her hair!!
Shit, shit, shit! Get a fingernail clipping or a lock of hair like g-man said. I'll pull out my old spell books and get to work. Sending you good vibes! Blessings! (Oh, and do drink that Rum...works wonders).
I don't think it will take them long to realize what a mistake they made hiring her. Too bad you haven't been there long enough to have some clout to where they would listen to you.
Things happen for a reason.
Like Marion says, drink the rum and keep your chin up!
That is silly. SG won't be giving the eulogy, because she will also pass away and they'll opt the 2-person coffin to save money. Or - better yet - if you go the cremation route, intermingle the ashes in the ultimate gesture of eternal togetherness.
Galen, please -- I CANNOT touch that greasy hair! I know it's just gel or something, but it looks like bear grease. Can't I coerce the doll into working without having to, you know, touch her?:)
Hurry, Marion, because I'm going to be swilling rum 'til you find it. I don't want to end up drunk and in jail on account of that skank.:-)
Oh, there IS a reason, Roxan. My karma is cursed! I guess all I can do is sit patiently by, drink rum, and let her dig her own hole. I just hope it doesn't take so much time and rum that I fall in there with her.:)
Oh, geez, Pugsley! The thought of being with her in eternity is repugnant enough that I'm now going to investigate how to get myself turned into a zombie or a vampire or something. Clearly, I can't even die in peace!:-)
HEY, SERENA JOY!
HAPPY TUESDAY TO YOU!
OH, AND WHAT GOD HAS JOINED
TOGETHER, LET NO RUM PUT APART!
× × ×
/t.
Oh, geez, /t., I thought for a second there you were saying I'd have to marry her. Then I realized you were simply telling me to drink all the rum before she finds it. I can do that!;)
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