Monica Bielanko
That's What She Said
Just A Junk Drawer Dream
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Take Stock And Two Smoking Barrels

My new job rules! I really do love it. I get paid a ridiculous amount to do 1/3 of what I was pretending to do accomplishing at the last news station. I guess because this gig is network (translation: we have assloads of money to throw at you) and the last gig was local (translation: we need to beg corporate for more cash). So. That is good. Very good.

As my professional life picks up, my personal life takes a swan dive. Which I really don't feel inclined to share. Suffice it to say I want to kick The Surge squarely in the balls and I don't feel inclined to joke about it. I am also inclined to think he wants to pull my hair very hard and then push me into the East River. I wonder how many times I will be inclined to say inclined in this paragraph. I am inclined to think I will be inclined to say inclined just one more time. Inclined. There.

In other news, oh boy am I bursting to share news about The Ex! The Surge's Ex, that is. She who inspired such gems as this and this here. Alas, I am struggling to be a better person - although I am fully aware that by dishing just this small morsel I am no longer the better person. Fuck. Who we kidding here? I was never The Better Person. I am never The Better Person. Hells, I hung on for more than a month before divulging so perhaps I can be thought to be improving.

So I still check out her MySpace page from time to time, as one does. About a month ago I get an email from the dear girl via MySpace informing me she knows I view her MySpace page because she tracked certain IP addresses from New York to Utah and then she read my blog and determined that I took a trip to Utah on the exact dates those particular IP addresses accessed her MySpace page and furthermore, was I aware of the apparently highly disturbing fact that the song I am currently playing on my page was the very same song she played on her page a year ago? The very same! She finds it highly suspicious that I chose that particular tune.

My God, of course I know, dearest! Last 15th September 2005 I took note of your MySpace song selection, wrote it in my journal, high-lighted it with fluorescent marker and waited, oh so patiently to make my move. And then! When you least expected it, I selected it for my profile! Because you, sweetheart, are so far ahead of the rest of us when it comes to MySpace Profile Song Choosing that we may as well give up. That's right. Oh, gentle reader, you congratulated yourself when you chose to play that new Panic! At The Disco song on your profile. Everyone will think I'm musically savvy, you thought to yourself. And they'll certainly be impressed with your discerning musical tastes and maybe, hopefully, (fingers crossed!) they'll assume you spend long hours reading Proust and penning thoughtful song lyrics. But you were wrong. The Ex? She's been there, discovered that. What's more, she wants you to know that she is, like, SO onto you... trying to copy her song and such. What were you thinking? FURTHERMORE - don't you dare view her MySpace page because those provacative, windblown photos she snapped of herself in her living room and then uploaded onto her page? She DOES NOT want you looking at them! So, if you please, if it isn't too much trouble, don't go to her page. She'd really appreciate it.

Curses! Once again I've been foiled by The Ex. Busted looking at her MySpace page, caught copying her musical stylings and reduced to blogging about it instead of the shit that's really on my mind. Seriously though, can you spell N-U-T-T-E-R?