I haven’t eaten and I didn’t sleep, despite the fucking sleeping pill. Who said Ambien actually works? I have no interest in work. I am fidgeting in the office waiting to go on air. Why the hell did I choose this profession?
Thank God for Botox and those eye gels I bought from Dermstore.com. I have the morning show slot on KVLA, the top local affiliate here in LA, and my arrival time is 4 a.m. Today, I hit snooze three times before finally getting up and into the shower, only to discover (with utter disgust), that my period started. Great! Now, along with getting over my ex, I am stuck with looking fat, feeling gross and otherwise unattractive.
My co-anchor is an arrogant dick named Mark Winston. I would call him an asshole, but he’s not that bad. You have to understand the difference between a dick and an asshole (didn’t mean to be so anatomically focused). A dick may be merely annoying and uncool. An asshole is someone who will sabotage you – rip you to shreds without clemency. I just thought of my ex. I guess I’d have to categorize him as an asshole. I have a game in which I put a little check mark on my notepad to count how many times a day I think about the ex. I will fill a whole page today.
Mark and I have a meeting every morning before going on the air. Right now, he’s leaning in so close, I can smell his repulsive cologne blending with his hideous coffee breath. Gross. He’s talking about some banal shit, as usual, and condescending to me like I’m his junior. I have no energy to call him out. Just want to get it over with.
Back in my office, I think about calling Jane with my news. Jane Mercer. My best friend. But I think it’s still too soon. I might have to make a special dinner date to spill the story of asshole ex. She gets me more than anyone else. Especially after her experience dating the asshole above all assholes, Craig Keller, who should win the “Nozzee of the Year” award.
What are the Nozzee awards, I hear you ask? Jane and I made it up. It’s for those men in LA who are worse than douche bags, they are douche nozzles. We decided a Douche Nozzle is worse than a Douche Bag. Don’t ask me why. Something about where it ends up. Then we created an awards show for the top five and shortened the title to Nozzees – sort of like Addys or Oscars. You get the point.
I will text Jane and get on her calendar for the end of the week. Hopefully, I’ll have my shit together by then (meaning I won’t be prone to public crying jags). That’s fucking career suicide.
Break up day two
