btw ftw

soooo, here's how my day began. I awoke at 4am and lurched to the fridge in the dark and ate my ex-boyfriend's leftover little star plain cheese chicago style deep dish pizza, after which I felt moderately painful pangs of guilt. my remorse was only for concern of what my actions would do to my waistline rather than regretting the rage that I knew it would evoke in jon as soon as he made it to the fridge for lunch. I left one crust, one symbolic crust, like a middle finger of lightly browned dough, waiting for its one triumphant moment of vengeance. that's right, fucker, I ate your pizza. AND IT WAS GOOD.

I went back to sleep for a spell, and ended up opening my eyes to stare at the ceiling on hourly intervals until nine when my cell phone alarm went off and rufus put his paws over his eyes in protest. (no kidding, kitty.) my morning routine proceeded as per usual, choosing out a dress, swirl-tap-buffing my way into bare escentuals flawlessness, listerine, toothbrush, cheerios, BM, chapstick, sunglasses, earbuds and out the door with my macbook slung over my shoulder in a totebag. this morning I was scheduled to have a meeting before reporting to wholphin HQ with a prospective new roommate for august first on haight and pierce in my favorite little corner of the lo-hay. amy was her name. I texted amy to let her know that, as she had mentioned her flexible schedule, that I was going to stop off for a cup of joe on my way over and that she should expect me at 10:30 rather than 10:15. I think I even offered to pick her up a croissant, or something equally as flaky, delicious, and considerate. I assumed that her lack of response equated to a silent acknowledgement of the ever-so-slight change in plans, and I was on my merry way. at 10:31, mocha in hand and beaming from ear to ear in preparation for selling myself harder than a QVC queen with 8 seconds left on an auction, I raised my finger to ring the doorbell and I saw that "Amy Haight & Pierce Apt. 3" was blowing up on my caller ID.

"well, helllooooo!" I chirped into my phone.
"is this christina?" she asked.
"why yeeeesss! I'm actually just right outsi--"
"I'm really sorry, I just got your text."
"it's alright, it's fine. I'm here now, actually."
"no, no," she said, starting to sound penitent, "I had thought that you were flaking when you weren't here at 10:15 and another girl that was supposed to interview at 10:45 came early, and..."
"and?"
"and I really wanted to wait for you, you know, because your email was great and you sounded like such a great fit, and..."
"......"
"but then you weren't there and she was and I was like, look, girl, I like you but there's supposed to be another applicant, but she said she had to know today, so..."
"....."
"I just rented her the room. I'm really sorry."
"oh. so you didn't get the text."
"not until just now. I'm so sorry. wait, did you just say you were here?"
"no, no." I sighed, as my gaze fell upon the Apartment 3 buzzer.
"good luck in your search."
"thanks. I'll need it." I said, flipping my phone shut.

that 5 dollar beverage just cost me a place to live and a large piece of my dignity, as I had to hear myself tentatively query a barista about whether they used low fat whip. stolen pizza karma? past life trespass punishment? perhaps, just not the right place? at any rate, the days become numbered before one or both parts of the treehouse's dissolved couple is frantically asking jeeves the most effective way to hide a body. I try and live my life free of regret but this time, I may have effectively screwed the pooch. any way you dress it up, the cold truth remains, I have to leave my pink barbie dreamhouse that is the disneyland of san francisco victorians because I got my tail where I got my mail.

I'm in the basement at wholphin right now and taking a break from transcribing subtitles for issue no. 6, and the sound of the persistent whisper of laptop keys together with magnetic fields playing upstairs are as soothing as lapping waves or a twittering rainforest could ever be. be that as it may, as I stared off at the jumble of boxes lining the walls I focused on one with a logo on it that said "neenah neenah" and I'd be lying if I said it didn't feel like an emotional attack. I need a christmas miracle in july.