four-dollar-whore and a twelve-dollar-dancer

It's been suggested that i'm slacking a little in the blogging department.  What these people don't realize, clearly is i'm not the most interesting person ever.  If in fact you want to have a neat tidbit for you every time you click refresh, Vox has plenty of other voyeur opportunities for you.  There are other, better writers and people with more intriguing secrets and lifestyles.  My blog has never been about entertaining or illuminating, it's for me to say what i'm thinking, and what i'd probably say anyway, and for people to keep up with me, if they choose.  i don't feel obligated, therefore, to keep up a witty banter.  so keep clicking refresh, if you like.  i'm not making any promises.

I don't know where i've been or what people expect to hear, but this is the question i've been getting most recently, so here's an answer you can come back and check so as to avoid the replay the next time we see each other:

What is going on with you?

1) Work.  work is what's going on with me.  I work for one of the blahblbhalalalblbahhaha blah who the fuck cares.  I have a big project.  It's important enough that I want to do a good job on it, and since my actual job involves being available for people when they need my help, I'm often left only the evening and weekend hours to do the project work. Which means I'm working a lot of overtime.  Ordinarily I'd just whine about this a lot, but recently my company made the brilliant decision to make a whole class of its support structure 'overtime eligible'.  This means I, like fast-food workers across the nation, now make overtime pay.  The emotional effect of which is that i feel like i sell big macs.  There's nothing wrong with selling big macs, but i've been an hourly employee before and it makes me self conscious about the work i do and the time i spend doing it.  It makes me feel like I'm trying to cheat someone by recording the hours I spent doing my job, instead of working until I'm done as a salaried person would.  It makes me feel like i'm really only worth what they pay me, like I have no real contributions to make besides my time.  So that's the emotional effect:  I feel like a cheap whore.  The financial effect: I'm going to make a shitload of money and I'm sure I'll find that selling out won't feel so bad.  Ok, not a cheap whore, anyway. 

I also found out that I'm suddenly not the highest ranking member of my team.  I am ordinarily brilliant, and surround myself with brilliant people, but none of us can fathom this.  It's shit.  I'm through debating this with myself and others, i've moved on through denial and I'm somewhere between anger and acceptance. (closer to anger).  What. The. Fuck.  (that's a tribute to anne)  There's nothing I can do about it, so i'm gonna take the money and run, and by run i mean, not run at all, keep coming back for more, like the four-dollar-whore they take me for.  Yep.  So that's work.

2) Dancing.  dancing has recently become a lot of fun.  There's a New Guy in the scene who's fan-fucking-tastic, and our styles mesh nicely on a dancefloor.  Plus he fills my head with lots of garbage about how great I am and how he can't wait to dance again.  I'm sure he says this to everyone (I expect to hear that he does)... but you know what? who cares.  He's a blast to dance with and i will enjoy every second of the attention I get until my novelty wears off.  Because that's how dancing is, really.  it's all about the novelty. 

I expect people reading this will assume i think New Guy is better than all of the leads I ordinarily dance with.  Not so, not at all.  i've been lucky enough to dance with some of the best dancers in the bay area, on a semi-regular basis.  How cool is that? And I had some great dances with a few of them friday and saturday night.  I expect to continue having amazing dances with them, forever. New Guy just rounds out my collection of Awesome.  We'll just call him, DC-awesome, packing a killer whip. (k-i-l-l-e-r whip.)

(i'm such a dance geek)

3)  There is no three..  Did you really think there was a three??

no three.