Irksome

Every morning, I vow that I will be nicer to a certain coworker that I happen to loathe. When they bustle through the door with their false sense of importance, I always offer a cheerful “Good morning!” and hope that today will be the day I can finally smother the distaste and rise above.

And then they keep on going, without even acknowledging the greeting like a normal human being would. And I hate them all over again.

It doesn’t take much to set me off, but then it wouldn’t take much to placate me, either.

Immature

I’m reverting to my passive-aggressive high school ways.

When items are demanded of me (as they usually are, because no one here grew up with any manners), I smile politely and hand them off.  As soon as the offender’s back is turned, I aggressively flip them off under my desk.

For some reason, this is very satisfying.

When the lights go out

The TV, computer, cable, lights…everything turns off with an electronic “zzwhoomp,” the collective powering down of our one bedroom apartment. I go to the window to see if the lights are off across the street, but those fancy condos have once again one-upped us (am I really surprised by that?) and the balcony dinner party on the third floor across the way continues uninterrupted.

See and be scene

The unwashed showed up en masse on Sunday for the Livestock BBQ.  Even I was there!

There’s something to be said — too bad so many people have already said it — about how living in a city forces you to be more stylish than the ‘burbs.

Even so, at an event like Sunday’s, I tend to feel distinctly out of place.  I haven’t mastered the icy gaze, and I don’t think I’m likely to anytime soon, so even if my clothes don’t quite mark me as a hick from the sticks, my camera and my nervous giggle do.

As I mature, though, I care less and less about fitting in.  Maybe people who are constantly in search of a bigger and better party really are having a great time, but it all seems so desperate and sad to me.  Sit back!  Enjoy! Do you really need 1,000 photos of you hitting the beer bong to prove that you had fun last night?