HISTORICAL FICTION

LIBRA HOROSCOPE (from astrology.com): You’re focusing more on your past than you would like, possibly because of a visitor or off memory. It’s a good time for you to just chill out and let yourself go a little, or you might become obsessed!

Laura’s Log:
Nice to have a long weekend, even if it comes just after starting a new job. Wouldn’t say I’m worn out from work, but it is stressful trying to adjust to a new job environment, learn the ropes, figure out everyone’s quirks, dodge Derrick at all costs.

How weird is it to have a flashback to my job from hell? No one told me my local Starbucks would turn into a triage area where old wounds would be slashed open. As I stood in line, I heard my name called from behind. I knew that voice. Instant shivers. Ernesto.

I offered a polite, yet dismissive wave which he mistook as a signal to butt in line beside me. “I got this,” he said. “It’s the least I can do.” You have to understand how cheap Ernesto is to realize the magnitude of his gesture. Kind of like Perez Hilton inviting the Black Eyed Peas for a slumber party. I suppose I was in a state of shock when I agreed to sit with him.

“You live around here?” he asked. I nodded. “Terrific! I just moved to a place near Fir and 13th.” He said it like we were going to become best pals just because we were both in walking distance from the deli counter at Meinhardt. Too many close encounters and I was going to have to start driving to East Van for groceries.

“Had to downsize,” he explained. “That’s one of the unfortunate circumstances of being fired. Still looking. How ’bout you?” No surprise he was still out of work. No doubt he wasn’t given a glowing job reference from Hunter Keene. I vaguely spoke of my new job as an assistant in a firm. Fortunately, Ernesto was too self-absorbed to probe further. He went on: “I’m suing them, you know.”

“For what?!” I didn’t mean to blurt it or to sound so astounded, but didn’t Ernesto, as thick as he is, have at least one self-reflective bone in his body?

“They totally screwed me over. My work record was impeccable.”

OK, apparently not. Apparently snakes are born without the self-reflective bone. He was no longer my boss. He had been the reason I got canned. Guilt by association. I was suddenly peeved to be having coffee with a man who still felt entitled. I decided to be frank. “You seriously need to get a grip. They had dozens, maybe hundreds, of reasons to fire you. Porn on your computer at lunch?! You weren’t even discreet. Had to have the volume turned up to get off on the moans.”

“That’s the best part!” he clarified, sounding indignant that I’d bring up a harmless leisurely lunch pastime.

“Ernesto, you played Scrabble online while the rest of us scrambled with deadlines.”

“A good boss delegates.”

“You asked at least ten of us for our bra sizes.”

“Just making small talk.”

“You subjected all of us to rants about filing systems, Oprah, Stephen Harper and Mike McCardell that were so loud and so long you lost your voice.”

“I’ve always had delicate vocal cords. You can ask my doctor.”

I got up. “Forget it. Sue ’em. Good luck with that.”

“I may contact you as a character witness.”

No ability to assess the situation! Good thing my latté was free. It was utterly tasteless.

KEN’S JOURNAL:
THERE’S THAT STREISAND SONG FROM SOME MOVIE FROM THE ’70s WITH THE LINE “WHAT’S TOO PAINFUL TO REMEMBER, WE SIMPLY CHOOSE TO FORGET.” HOW IS THAT EVEN POSSIBLE?

CHECK OUT MY HOROSCOPE FOR TODAY, MAN. TALK ABOUT COMING @ LEAST 6 MONTHS TOO LATE. “CHILL OUT & LET YOURSELF GO.” YEAH, LIKE THAT’S ALL IT TAKES TO ERASE ALL MEMORY OF CLARA.

SERIOUSLY, HOW AM I SUPPOSED TO TOTALLY WIPE OUT EVERYTHING CLARA W/O SOMEONE TO FILL THE VOID? AREN’T I SUPPOSED TO FIND SOME TRANSITION PERSON? AND, IF I EVER DO FIND ANOTHER WOMAN, IS IT THE HONORABLE THING TO TELL HER UP-FRONT, “HEY, YOU’RE JUST MY IN BETWEENER.”

I THINK WHEN YOU’RE DUMPED YOU DON’T GET OVER THE DUMPER UNLESS YOU DUMP SOMEONE ELSE OR YOU CONVINCE YOUR BRAIN THAT THE DUMPER WAS A TOTAL BITCH. PROBLEM IS, I DON’T GET MY KICKS OUT OF DUMPING PEOPLE & WHAT KIND OF MINDFUCK BS IS IT TO TELL YOURSELF THE WOMAN YOU SPENT YRS W/WAS A BITCH? WHAT’S THAT SAY ABOUT YOU FOR STICKING AROUND ALL THAT TIME?

SO, YEAH, I’M STILL IN THAT OBSESSIVE PHASE. MAYBE THAT MAKES ME PATHETIC. BUT ISN’T THAT BETTER THAN BEING SOME ASSHOLE HURTING ANOTHER WOMAN JUST SO HE CAN MOVE ON? ISN’T IT MORE HONEST THAN RETRO-BITCHIFYING MY EX? THERE’S NOTHING NOBLE IN WHERE I’M AT THESE DAYS BUT @ LEAST THE ONLY 1 I’M HURTING IS MYSELF.