I crack myself up re-reading this post, so I had to bring it over here:
My former employer- who many of you know - seems to be obsessed with me. Part of her obsession manifests itself in her assuming that I am obsessed with her and her stupid company.
Now, some of you might stop me here and say, "But Kelli, you're taking the time to write a blog about her. That could be construed as at least being unable to let the past go, don't you think?" And you may be right, gentle reader. However, I defend myself by saying that... SHE STARTED IT!
I will not name her - since I fully believe her pact with Satan involves her being able to sense the use of her odios moniker - but most of you know her or have heard me speak of her. I'm sure you also know about her melting candle wax face and her wide, expressionless psycho baby doll eyes. And for these things I pity her. All her piles of money can't keep her from having to sleep hanging upside-down from the ceiling each night or stop her cheekbones from sliding into her clavicle.
I can picture her now - eating at MCL in a ballgown or buying her way into another organization - and, I will admit, my mind fills with cold hate. BUT... there's another picture of her that floats through my head: her, shoring up her melting face by gathering folds of skin and stapling them behind her ears, sitting in her white marble office with her princess phone and her fake quill pen from 1985 (the last year she was relevant). She is alone. Utterly alone. THIS picture makes me laugh and laugh.
In the end, how could I (or anyone else) be obsessed with someone so tragic?
MCL in a ballgown... SPECTACULAR.
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