A quest to make sense of it all. Or a sense to make a quest of it all.

Thursday, September 18, 2008

Seriously, go. Or don't go.

This is the scariest thing I have ever seen. Ever.

Monday, September 08, 2008

Amandas.

Over the last few years, I've noticed a peculiar trend: women of a certain name causing problems in my life. Women who have made fun of me. Women who have left messes for me to clean up. The name? Amanda.

I think the first Amanda who made me shake my fist at the heavens was a Jones; we were in the same fourth grade science class at Kempsville and she was still openly into Barbies, which, to me, was a serious social faux pas; you do not announce to the world that you still love Midge and Skipper at that advanced age. That stuff is private. Anyway, she was also into my best friend, Kristine, and stole her from me. Bitch.

Since then, an average of 1.6 Amandas per year have proven to be thorns in my paw. Amanda B., my husband's ex-girlfriend, tried absolutely everything she could think of to get him back, and in doing so, annoyed the holy hell out of us both. Amanda W., who was the office manager at Scott before I took over the position... now there's an Amanda to whom I'd really like to write a strongly worded letter. She left the entire business in such disarray that even after a year of working there, I was still picking up after her. I left Scott and started a new job, taking the place of an Amanda N., who was also a prolific slacker.

These are but a few of the Amandas I've had reason to harbor ill will toward. They have all been shapely and attractive, with light brown hair and an apparent hatred for girls named Sarah. Is it that "Amanda" is a common enough name that there could, as a matter of statistics, be that many bad apples and I've just had the misfortune of encountering a disproportionate number of them? Does that even make any sense? I doubt it. No, what I think makes more sense is that the Universe is intentionally throwing all its shoddy Amandas at me. I think that somewhere out there, someone is marveling at all the fantastic Amandas he or she has known. I hate this person. To my recollection, I've only known two Amandas I've liked: the Cato girl Amanda and the Memphian Amanda. They are bright lights in a world full of dark Amanda-gloom.

I don't think I could come up with a more pointless post.