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Juggle My Nutsack On The Bridge Of Your Nose before/after
So I got "the call" today.
No, not the ministerial call to be ordained as a servant of the "Word".
The call about the job interveiw, which I had written off about two days ago.
No dice. Guy said it came down to a gut feeling, and he felt the woman he hired would "juggle personalities" better than I would.
This is a joke. I used to be a group therapist.
I can juggle felonious teen man-boy personalities who have daddy issues. Everybody I work with digs me. I've had post-menopausaul women on the verge of tears in my cubie all week because I'm leaving. Juggle my nutsack, motherfucker.
But I don't care at this point. With the way I've been treated since I got fired, I'm pretty sour on this whole experience.
I'm also philisophical about it. A collective pushes its members to the point at which they will be most useful to the collective. Society is still sorting me out, and I'm fine with that. Just need to find a way to pay my bills until It figures out what to do with me.
Fuckers. Juggle my ASS.
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