Jane-Rebecca Cannarella is an editor at HOOT Review, a cat lady, and a Nutella enthusiast. When not poorly playing the piano, she chronicles the many ways that she embarrasses herself at the website www.youlifeisnotsogreat.com. She occasionally drinks wine out of a mug that has a smug poodle on it, and she’s not great at writing in the third person.
I’m turning 33 tomorrow (Rejoice!Rejoice! Emmanuel) and that fact is a true surprise to us all, especially my friends that have had a death poll on me since I was 22.
BUT I’M STILL HERE:
And as such I’m making difficult choices as I extend my birthday from one day (tomorrow, the year of our Lord and the start of my Jesus birthday, August 16th) to three days starting today. Such as, which ice cream sundae do I eat today?
And since 33 is gonna be the year where I petition for help in all the right places, I fielded out this decision to other people:
I’m a motherfucking Jesus-aged lady (almost) and I’m gonna order both fucking sundaes today.
While on the field for my job (my highly important job that I love, not at this place that keeps rejecting me from a job I didn’t want), I was waiting for the bus (because I don’t know how to drive) and saw this:
Nature is both surprising and awe-inspiring
And my bitter snarky mind immediately wanted to send joking text messages to the five people that will entertain my shenanigans.
I applied for a job, by the request of a person that works at the office, about five months ago. I got a call back and did one of those annoyingly long phone interviews – the ones where you have to hide in the corners of your actual job and whisper talk during a lunch break that goes for over an hour.
And I didn’t get it (I know. I’m shocked, too). They sent me a quick email letting me know. Such is life, such is war.
After suffering the rejection, I went about my life as normal and didn’t dwell on this humiliating defeat at all.
And I got a new job.
And life proceeded as normal.
And then I got ANOTHER email letting me know I didn’t get the job. As though, a month later, they felt the need to remind me just in case I didn’t get the message the first time.
That’s a nice feeling.
Two months pass.
AND I GET A THIRD FUCKING EMAIL LETTING ME KNOW I DIDN’T GET THE FUCKING JOB.
So, I decided to let them know that as much as I appreciate them incessantly informing me that they didn’t think I was the right candidate maybe they could stop sending me rejection emails.
Do I have a secret child that is wandering the earth looking for my parental approval? Juliet, know that mama is proud of you and that I appreciate your email.
That any child of mine would be good at math. Not only would they be good at math, but that they would be proactive enough to actively improve their math skills independently – like it’s something that they want.
My mom put out a fruit bowl (basket? It’s square-ish, so presumably it’s not a bowl. What is this? Who is an adult that uses shit like this? Who do I know that has decorative kitchen…appliances (?) things?).
And I can’t be sure if this is arranged the way it is because my mother is 1. hilarious 2. a space case that doesn’t pay attention to what she’s doing or 3. conducting a deeply disturbing social experiment on her dinner guests.
one of these things is not like the other
She actually prompted people to grab some fruit or nuts before dinner if they were hungry.
Hey, seriously, what is the fruit and nuts receptacle called?