No One Puts Hollie In the Corner

Not gonna lie - it's been a while. Too long since I've blahed away at the world. The reason is all my blahing energy or pent up anger over something some crazy person may or may not have said to me in my daily wanderings have dissolved into the towers of corporate power that dot the city.

Sitting in my corner on the 33 floor of another uninspiring high rise, I think why am I being punish? I mean, don't get me wrong. I like my new job, I like my new boss and I like my new co-workers, I just don't like 9.5 hours of ass growing I do daily. If it's been over 8 hours and all my work is done and the boss is gone - then tell me why do I need to sit here and keep the desk company? Seriously. It's not like I want to be an agent. So what's the deal?

I should shut my mouth. It's luck I got a job so quickly - especially in today's economy. Or so everyone tells me. And I'm working in my industry... right? Just not as a writer. Instead I send the real working writers their royalty checks and think 'one day Hollie, one day.'

If I'm not sitting at my work desk then surly I'd just be at my desk at home - doing the same thing, avoiding my work and browsing playbill.com for the hundredth time (just to be clear I don't avoid my work at the agency, I avoid my writing when that work is done.) Like I said it's not the work it's the amount of hours I have to be there. I'm writing in circles I'm so drained.

Currently Reading:

Neil LaBute - The Mercy Seat
This is How it Goes

Tracy Letts - Man From Nebraska

Un Happy Birthday, America

This has to be the most half ass-ed forth of July I've ever encountered.

I'm not saying I didn't enjoy the Thursday and Friday I had off but it feels like America was way to depressed to do anything for her big day. She basically sat on the couch eating bonbons while looking at old pictures of her and Britain when they were young and in love. 'What went so horribly wrong' she thought. Then she got a box of wine and drunk dialed Iran. Not gonna lie, it was really ugly.

Where is that sparkle you used to have old girl? Where are the roaring fire works and huge family style parties? None of those seemed to happen. NO apple pie and big dreams. She didn't even blow out the candles. People! Something isn't right here. I think we should all get together, wave a few flags and sing a few rounds of G-d Bless America. Maybe the old bitch will cheer up again.

I understand though, having a birthday but being so poor that everything you could think of to do makes you angry at yourself for having the need to spend money - that you don't have in the first place - on something so frivolous! Well, don't you cry anymore old gal, we'll find you a new step-daddy soon enough. That mean beady eyed creep will get the boot and who knows - maybe your Queen Mum will forgive you and let you back into the family. That would be nice wouldn't it? Having some nice shiny British Pounds to play with instead of your dirty dollar?