�Everything that irritates us about others can lead us to an understanding of ourselves.� Carl Jung, psychiatrist (1875-1961)

The only reason I had planned to watch American Idol , was because Africa�s good friend is one of the hosts. But once it was on, watching people�s dreams come true or totally be crushed� I loved it. I watched it with Missy at her new place. I hate reality TV shows. This was different. It doesn�t matter how these people interact with each other, there�s no strategy or game involved. You�re either talented, or you�re not. I was so into it, I cried on more than one occasion, some for the one�s who made it, some for the one�s who didn�t. Could�ve been the wine in me.

Okay, speaking of wine (aside from the fact that I�m looking forward to the girl�s night wine-tasting party tonight), last night, I had a traumatizing experience while picking up some white wine at the local grocery. I�m at the counter, white wine in hand, on my way over to Bunny�s to check out the new renovations to her adorable place, when it happened. It was so fast, I hardly had time to think about what I was doing and how what I was doing must have looked to those around me.

I turned around, to my left, and lightly placed my left hand on the left side of my ass to check for cat hair while I waited to be rung up. At the SAME time that my hand met the fabric of my pants, there was a loud, clearly audible fart. Two little girls, twins, behind me, said, �Mo�om,� in a whiny, pleading voice, and I noticed to my right, the jail cell for the recently escaped gas, checking out tabloids. This woman was obviously the farter, but she refused to acknowledge it, and just stood there, continuing to read about how Chelsea Clinton passed out drunk. That didn�t solve the problem that my hand went to my ass simultaneously with the loud fart. I may never know what those people believe to be true. I know it wasn�t me, and that�s enough.

Anyway, I have a bit of bragging to do. Okay, a LOT of bragging to do. I�m moving upstairs today, into my own office in the big-wig-wing. Try saying THAT three times really fast. That�s right, folks, in little over 4 months, I have turned my temp-ish job at a law firm as a filing assistant into a permanent paralegal position, now a member of not only the mass tort cases, but of an elite group of personal injury cases, headed by my boss and the Big Guy himself, head partner. They are sending me to a month�s long worth of seminars for the working paralegal, to boot. I must say, I�m very happy right now.

And you know what else? I�m proud of myself. It�s been a long time since I worked somewhere, where I was given the opportunity to learn quickly and increase my responsibilities consistently for every new thing I learn. Pretty soon, I�ll be living alone again. But I must say, I�m not looking forward to not living with my father. I think he�s a big reason for why I pushed so hard to get this far in this short amount of time. But now, I move my crap from this hallway to my very own office, with a door and a window overlooking flowers and trees.

I�m gonna go ahead and revel in that for a bit. Because I deserve to.

-Barbarella

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