Thursday, February 28, 2008
Today on The Holy Shit Show
So we haven't seen or talked to the boy since Tuesday... that would be the same day in which we discovered that he is a little slimy weasel that we don't want to play with anymore.
Yesterday we were training in Town An Hour Away to do job of The Chic We Never Really Got Along With. Now, we weren't training because we are planning to do her job but because we needed to be cross trained to cover for her should she take a vacation or get sick or not show up (as she is prone to doing).
But we never intended to actually have her job.
Especially not recently when she has seemed to be on her game.

Yesterday, we got Some Dirt on The Slimy Weasel (has a nice ring to it doesn't it?)...
[What is it called when one refers to them self as a "we" for an entire blog post?]
So we are d-y-i-n-g to hear The Dirt but somehow get roped into lunch at The Awesomest Place In The World (for those of you not in the know, that would be Olive Garden) and so we couldn't call her on our lunch break and had to wait two more excruciating hours until we were driving home to get The Dirt.
[It isn't third person... Help a sister out...]
So when we are finally free and in our Brand New Freestyle... with leather and a moon roof driving home, we dial up for The Dirt and snuggle into our leather seat for the hour drive and hopefully an hours worth of good Dirt.
Sadly The Dirt was all confirming what we posted on Tuesday about how The Previously Adorable and Super Nice Cute Boy at work is actually a Slimy Weasel. And he isn't even a Smart Slimy Weasel. He is instead a dumbass. He is going around work telling people about how he is juggling multiple chics and all freaking out that they will find out about each other.
Did I mention that he is doing this AT WORK?
You know, where one of the chics he is "juggling" happens to spend fifty hours of her week?
Well lucky for him, there is now one less chic to be juggled.
There is one more chic to watch out for "accidentally" kicking you in the nuts, but one less chic to worry about juggling.
Armed with this news since Tuesday and only just having it confirmed yesterday, we had been trying to decide how exactly we wanted to react.
Did we want to pretend we didn't know and just cold shoulder the boy out?
Did we want to send The Slimy Weasel a nasty email telling him he is a Slimy Weasel?
Did we want to act like we didn't know and pull the "I've decided to see someone else" card?
Did we want to slash his tires?
Did we want to sit down and tell him we know he is a Slimy Weasel and stupid to boot for blabbing at work?

There were so many choices...
And we really couldn't pick one.
So we thought about it all day yesterday while we were training in Town An Hour Away... we thought about it when we were driving... we thought about it while we were making dinner... we thought about it while we were dropping The Girls off at Softball Practice... we thought about it while we were walking Tucker... we thought about it while we laid in bed last night... we thought about it when we talked to Snakeman...
We thought about it a lot and really couldn't quite come to a decision.
So this morning when we got to work and were talking to Snow on the phone and we saw that he was already here and we still hadn't made up our mind as to what we were going to do, we panicked a little.
[It's called referring to yourself in the plural. I'm totally referring to myself in the plural. I wonder why... Maybe I'm lonely...]
So we told Snow that we had to run because we were at work and we had to face The Music. (The Music = The Slimy Weasel in this case...)
Somewhere in between the car and the seeing The Slimy Weasel for the first time today, we decided to act like nothing had ever happened and that we didn't know that anything had happened.
We aren't sure.
[You know the Empress from The Never Ending Story totally referred to herself in the plural all the time, like the whole movie. Didn't she?]
Probably because we don't want waves. We are Anti-Waves as it were and have a tendency to avoid them. Like the plague. Also because we are professional. We don't want to create a crappy workplace even if some people apparently don't give two shits about wave making and crappy workplace promoting...
The fact is that there isn't anything that can be done.
A mistake was made (this would be a judgment mistake on my part and a moral mistake on his, I believe) and it can't be reversed and since The Universe has yet to instill in me the right to inflict karmic punishment on others in her name, what's a girl to do?
Except let it go.
Does this mean I will continue sleeping with The Slimy Weasel? It does not. It means that I will be just as nice as I was previous to his transition from Cute New Boy to his current status.
I am going rewind to November and start over.
I am going to be the nice rockin' chic that I have always been and take The Sex off the table. Because he so doesn't deserve The Sex.
And my gut tells me that he will at some point try and get The Sex again and when he does? I will so totally tell him that I know about him being a Slimy Weasel and that no, he cannot get The Sex from me any more.
That's right.
[Ha! I stopped! I'm back to first person! Go me!]
So here's the thing, I get to work today and The Slimy Weasel is totally acting like he was before. All nice and hanging out and flirting. And I'm all looking for that iron box to put my not-able-to-withstand-kryptonite feelings into. Because even though we know that The Slimy Weasel is a Slimy Weasel, the flirting still somehow makes our stomach do flip flops.
[Damn it, I started again! Stop it Kate! I think it has to do with him.]
Anyway, he is all back to his old tricks... you remember them right? Check out October of '06 if you've forgotten.
Oh and for you hard core LOC junkies? October of '06 isn't the only place I've hidden Top Secret Posts.
They are riddled through out this blog.
Riddled I tell you.
His old tricks? They suck because I have to remind my too-forgiving self that we don't like his punk ass anymore.
Note to Self: We. Don't. Like. His. (Charming). Punk-Ass. Any. Fucking. More. Damn. It.

Then, around 8:03am, my Boss comes in and closes my door and lets me know that I am being "promoted" into The Chic We Never Really Got Along With's job. Because she is being fired/let go/quitting. And so I am getting a raise (yay!) and bonuses (double yay!) but I am spending the next two weeks learning how to do her job. And then the next several months trying to balance her job and my current job (and really earning the raise/bonuses).
But I can so totally do it.
And I know it and my boss knows it and apparently his boss knows it too.

Just so long as I can find some repellant for The Slimy Weasel so that I stop being tempted to forgive his lying ass and hop back into bed with him. What the fuck is wrong with me anyway that a day of him being charming is all it takes for me to want to let it go? I am severely damaged.
I so just sat here for like five minutes and debated deleting all of that Super Honesty above about The Slimy Weasel because I don't want you all thinking I am a Loser Chic.
But I can't.
Because that just wouldn't be keeping it real.
And those of us that speak of ourselves in the plural? We especially have to keep it real.

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so eloquently put by katehopeeden at 1:31 PM
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