I'm Vincible

There’s a Flight of the Conchords song called “Hurt Feelings” that I’m overly enamored of – for one, the tune is pleasant and relevant, but also, it dares to rhyme “prize asshole” with both “casserole” and “profiteroles”. And the lyric, “The day after my birthday is not my birthday” gets me every time. But at the moment, I am nursing a little bit of hurt feelings myself. And it’s neither as amusing nor as lyrical as Brett and Jemaine’s version.

You see, we had our employee evals a few weeks ago, with the promise of a dollar amount to be attached at a later time. Friday, I got that dollar amount. It was low. In fact, to call it a dollar amount really oversells it.

So naturally, I got hurt feelings, I got hurt feelings.

I had hoped, foolishly, that the work I’ve spent the past two year doing would have amounted to something a little more tangible. I don’t think that I have the hardest job in the world, and nobody ever went into Customer Support for the benjamins, but the fact is, I’m not just a phone monkey, and I represent my company every day of my life. And presumably, that’s worth something.

So, I may approach the subject with my boss on my anniversary date and see if anything sticks.

And yes, I know, I know – money isn’t everything, but my self-esteem isn’t going to pay the bills. Eh, file it under FIDO (f*** it, drive on).

In other news, Matt and I went to the Music City Burlesque’s Spring Break or Bust show on Friday, which will cure what ails you. They had pasties for sale in the lobby, so I bought some. They’re purple with doves and violets on them, and I picked them because they’re basically Sigma Kappa pasties. My sisters would be so proud (once they got that vomit taste out of their mouths).

So in addition to twirling tassels, these lovely déshabilleuses teach classes on the art of burlesque. I’ll be signing up soon. I don’t know that I’d ever get up onstage and shake what my mama gave me, but it seems like a useful skill to have. Like making bread or knitting. I haven’t done those, either. I don’t think knitting would be fun, but eventually, I think it would be neat to make bread. And I don’t count biscuits or cornbread, both of which I can do beautifully. I’m talking something involving yeast, proofing, etc.

We went to see the bunnies on Sunday, but because I misread the website, we ended up at a closed toy store. Ah, well – there will always be next year. And beyond.

My parents’ male pug got neutered today, thus ending the dream of having my own pick of the litter courtesy of The Dude. I don’t really think I’d have ever done it, but it’s a moot (or, if you’re my boss, mute) point.

We have a bird nesting in our front porch – a little surveillance indicates it’s a robin. Robins are related to bluebirds, so presumably, this would be lucky. It’s heavy extrapolation, but I’ll take what I can get.

And with that, welcome Spring.