So I didn’t write last night. I’m sure it’s understandable. What with my work situation on Monday followed by the election loss of Kamala Harris I was not of the right mind to do such a thing. Not sure if I’m fully present today but here I am, giving it a go.

Golden Girls is on TV, an escape from the licking of wounds on MSNBC. I do not need to hear any more news about L’Orange Merde if I don’t have to. In 2016 when L’Orange Merde first defecated on the country I watched a documentary on Andrew Wyeth narrated by Michael Palin. It helped for as long as the documentary played but reality did intrude.

Lately, in the past week, I found myself posting things from 2020 and 2016 on social medias. Nothing had changed with L’Orange Merde, he was still an asshole.

Last night Bill watched the results on his phone and I was playing the sitcom, Ghosts on TV, occasionally dipping my toe in the electoral waters to see what was going on. It was alarming and stomach-churning, two phrases I rarely use.

Bill planned to stay up until 11 PM but decided on 10 instead. I watched Frasier and was distracted by what was going on. I was in bed a bit after 11 since it was all unofficial bad news.

Bill was up before me as usual and when I walked through the door I could tell it was real bad news. I tried to go back to bed after that news and a hug but that was not going to happen. And all the news this morning was the election, L’Orange Merde will be returning to what he called a dump, the White House.

Kamala was and still is intelligent, honest, and strong. Everything L’Orange Merde isn’t. I cannot believe how stupid this country could be. The demographics were offputting though typically me I did not follow the white adult male crowd and voted for Kamala Harris.

I’ve loathed L’Orange Merde since the crept on my cultural radar in the 80’s. I lost a good friend to him as well. Thankfully my immediate family are on the same page as Bill and myself, I know of other families that are somewhat torn asunder.

Now it’s night time. Bill is asleep, I have a job interview tomorrow. Not too hopeful which actually might work to my advantage. It’s at a place where Bill used to work. In the initial application, the question was asked and I said no.

After a video interview which I didn’t think was so hot, I was asked for a second interview, in person. I decided to alert my initial interviewer and let her know about Bill’s history at this gig, understanding that if it was a red flag then I was sorry to have wasted her time. She said it was no problem and asked me to schedule an in-person interview.

So that’s tomorrow. A new stomach-churning adventure. Hopefully, I’ll be up enough to post about it. No guarantees.

The day came today. What had been building up since July 8 came to fruition. I handled it well. The whole dismissal took about 2 minutes thanks to me. Not much of a response but ‘OK thanks’.

Raoul seemed to have tears in my eyes after Barbara Shorten handed me papers to sign regarding the ending of my job. He told me I could put him down as a reference and to keep his number in my phone. I shook his hand and even gave him a hug.

I think he did go to bat for me but it was not to be. There were sharks nearby and they smelled the blood in the water due to my mistake of sending the wrong documents to the wrong client. No one has heard from Jean Horonich and they fear Benjamin Taylor making a big stink. Basically, they wanted me out and this was the third strike.

The first strike was an incredulous ‘Really’ to an infection named Brian Calamaras. The second strike was a somewhat embellished story about my break time and the fuss it seemed to be causing, embellished by a Legume’s progeny.

There are people I did like working with though the days of hanging out after work with coworkers for a few drinks had long vanished from my routine. I tried sending emails to one or two of them at their work address but there are probably cyber nets to catch that sort of thing, ex-employee sending messages to current employees.

I didn’t feel so bad when it all happened this afternoon but being home for the past hours the numbness is starting to fade. Bill has been outstanding. He was angry. I told him the whole story as it unfolded over the four and a half months. He really does not like the fact that la matrone enfermée dans le placard also known as Joselito Semana or his drag name, Lito roams the streets and back alleys free as a fairy blue bird. Look it up.

Who knows what I will feel like tomorrow? Without seeming pretentious, I haven’t had a long job like a lot of people I know. I last for a few years then I’m out. I wonder why that is. I’m not like anybody else. It’s a fact and also no one is like anybody else. Is it an artistic bent in my life?

There was a job I had in the late 80s working with artists, and musicians and that was fun, working for Rupert Murdoch of all people. And I’m still friends with some of them, though Rupert never accepts my friend invites on the social medias.

I just checked Lunked Out, and was going to friend a former coworker and saw she was Maga. I withdrew my invitation. They did give me good advice regarding the situation I was in, and I knew she leaned right but seeing her quotes and support made me abandon the supporter on L’Orange Merde.

How will I feel tomorrow?

I want to see the end of L’Orange Merde once and for all.
I know it won’t go away by Wednesday. The fight goes on. We’ll see how I feel.