It's Hard To Believe That You're A Part Of Me... Best Friends Can Save The World
Elderly men in suits never mean fun. Ever.
Sitting at the end of this endless conference room table is one of the worst positions to be in. And with a million executives and shit. If you got any blander, you'd be in the Supreme Court. I'd rather be watching white paint dry. So many fricking words my brain was too drowsy to comprehend. Jesus Christ, could you just get to the point, you indecisive bastards??
You'd think these Snowboarding Magazine people would be really casual. Nope, just any other business I've ever been to. And to work there, I feel awful for the receptionist. I'm gonna kill someone if they don't get to the damn point they're trying to make.
"In conclusion, your photographs are very good, but they just aren't what we're looking for." the pudgy, balding man at the end of this wooden motherfucking table of doom.
I just nodded, walked out of there, not looking at anyone. I really didn't want to hear their opinions as they whispered them to their co-workers behind my back. Really, when exactly is it okay to heckle someone you don't even know? It didn't really bother me; my mission was to get to the car, I didn't want to think about anything else right now.
My Volvo was waiting for me, like a haven. God, I feel sad, dissapointed, upset, angry, hurtful. Like every emotion of the rainbow. I really need to work on the complexity of my life.
I heard "Simple" by Katy Perry blare from my pocket. Melanie, thank God. Ah damn, now I need to think of a way to mask my upsetness. And yes, I just said "upsetness". It's not an actual word, but it is to me.
"Hello, Melanie." I said softly into the phone.
"Hey Lizzy! You told me it'd be over around now, so I thought I'd call you. I was thinking that you might give me some ideas for my writer's block with this damn story. Agh, should I murder the bastard or let him suffer the feelings of being alone? Probably deserves it, the way he treated Satomi..." There she went, trailing off into her world of Japanese anime.
"I'm guessing this guy's a prick?" I joked.
"Well, he is on the surface, but if you really get to know him, he's really sweet. Cliche, I know, but I love it." she said. Melanie gets that deep into the mindset of her own characters. "But enough about my fan fiction, which I shall force you to read, how'd the thing go?"
"Well, they used a lot of big words like 'Constantinople' and 'Timbuktu'...." I said, referring to Dr. Seuss.
"Ah, my friend, you're an idiot. I'd use Japanese, but I know that you'd be too drowsy to sort of understand it. And I'm using 'sort of' loosely." Ah, everyone needs a smart-alec like Melanie as their best friend.
"Well, it'd be a whole lot easier to comprehend them if they spoke Japanese. These guys seemed like they were making up words as they went."
"I'm sure that's not the case. But did you get the job?"
"Well....no." Agh, I HATE letting people down. It makes me feel like the failure that I am. If only I was just some hermit, I wouldn't have to let anyone down, I could just be invisible. Like a superhero. Yet, I wouldn't be able to save anyone, because, of course, I'd probably fuck up and accidentally kill someone. Who's the superhero now?
"Oh, I'm so sorry, Lizzy." she said, and you could tell that she meant it. Never got how people could put such meaning in their words. Wish I'd gotten that from my dad. Nope, I'm just the impulsive bitch, with crappy vision, and an awful figure that I have to work on constantly. Without all the workouts I do, I'd look like a watermelon.
"Oh, it's fine. I'll find something else to do. This career sucked anyway." I said, trying my best to reassure her, but remember, no meaning with the words.
"No, it's not okay. You know what?" she said, and I could tell that she was contemplating something. "We're gonna have a girls night out. Just you and me, hitting the clubs."
"I couldn't ask you to do that, Melanie. You'd probably look bad standing next to a sucky loser like me, Miss-Award-Winning-Novelist."
"Hey, that's not set in stone, though the others are kinda 'eh'..."
"Of COURSE you're gonna win over them. Pfft, it's like Steven King over Stephenie Meyers, alright?"
"Awww, see, that's why we're gonna go out tonight. You're my best friend, and I don't want you upset. I can't have my number one fan be homeless without frequent nights on the town, now can I?"
"Alright, alright, I'll do it. When do you want to do this whole thing?" I asked, giving in. You can't argue with her. Martinis, man.
"Friday night. Eight. I'll pick you up, okay?" she said, and you could tell that she was very pleased with herself.
"Okay, see ya later."
"Bye!" Click. And I actually looked forward for the end of the week to come.