You May Think I'm Stupid, But I Am

Trust me baby trust me.
Editor’s Pick
MARCH 2, 2009 5:06PM

So long, special lady friend, it's been real.

Rate: 48 Flag

if you're reading this, then you have no doubt come home from a long hard monday's work to find this note left for you on top of the cookie tin. you went for a cookie snack and instead found this note. i'm writing this note to you because we can no longer be together.

not right now, anyway, not for the foreseeable future, it's just not possible anymore. i just can't do it. (and in case you're of a mind to toss this note aside and get at the cookies in the cookie tin, i should tell you that there are no cookies in the cookie tin. i ate all the cookies in the cookie tin. sorry. but they were lemon cookies and you know how i am about lemon cookies with my tea.)

you see, a relationship just isn't in the cards for us right now. it's not FEASIBLE. sorry. it's just the way things gotta be. but look at it this way. aren't i doing you a favor? cutting you loose? granting you early parole? you're free! you're single! you're fettered not by the ballast that can occasionally be me! enjoy! live your life!

are you still reading or have you started calling men.

in case you ARE still reading, let me tell you why we can no longer be we. you see, i find i am 'married to my work.' yeah, sure, it's a cliche and a cop-out but since when was i ever above either of those? 'married to my work' is why i'm stuck living in my basement office more or less day and night round the clock while glen/erin and jimmy/nicole gallivant all round the caribbean on some big ass cruise ship. they have that, so i'm stuck with this, so you're dumped for the next however long it is, i think til next wednesday i think. which really means friday, cause you know jimmy's gonna hafta sleep it off for a day or two. he never just jumps right back into the swing of things, now does he. no, he EASES himself back in. slowly. at his own pace. when he's good and goddamn ready.

sayonara til he comes back. if you're still single then, and ... you know ... are of a mind to see if we can salvage any kinda relationship, i'll give you a call. maybe we could go out sometime. see if we can rekindle whatever kept us together for however many years we were together. i think nine. maybe ten. i dunno, but it was a long time, wasn't it. sure felt it, anyway.

oh, i can see you now. i know you so well, so inside and out, that i just KNOW what you're doing right now. right now, you're asking yourself "why's he shouldering the load all by his lonesome. why can't he delegate." you should know the answer to this, i've told you this a million times. it's cause we hired nothing but morons.

can you imagine if i let any of them take over, even if only for a few hours while i came home and sat on the couch with you for a while? dear god, holy crap, great googly moogly. jason would take the drawer to the strip club on lawrence, we'd lose thirty-five grand by the time i got back. steve would eat whatever wasn't nailed down, and sell off furnishings, appliances, ware, all of it. laura would grope an unsuspecting customer so we'd have a lawsuit on our hands lickety-split. not by the gropee, mind you, but by the gropee's wife. sarah means well, but you know how sleepy she gets after nine thirty, she'd never make it all the way til midnight, no chance. regina's taking classes so she's useless. julie's blond so forget that. nando's not so good with the english and in america, you kinda need to know english to operate a successful enterprise. the thought of confrontation makes cheryl wet her pants, and you know how confrontational i gotta get on a daily basis.

and alan? alan? ALAN? i get light-headed and nosebleed-y just thinking of alan calling any kind of shots. my equilibrium shifts over a half inch. dizzy like when i had that q-tip tip stuck in my ear only i didn't know it, that cotton tufty tip. member when i was always dizzy and i couldn't walk right and then i ran up that flight of stairs and keeled over? member? and we couldn't figure out why til you saw a little thing of q-tip cotton poking outta my ear drum? well i feel like that when i think of alan in any kind of position of managerial what have you.

no. it's gotta be me at the restaurant all the time. our relationship must be 'damaged collaterally.' at least for the time being. however many years it wound up being, right down the drain.

(are you still reading or are you calling another man already. is it that guy i saw you with that one time that you're calling? when i saw you up on clark and you looked a little surprised to see me? is that who you're calling? if so, remember how those kindsa guys can be. they're only after one thing.)

so once the reality of your plight, your lot in life, sets in, you will spend the next few days assigning blame. you will lash out, finger pointing and accusatory. it's natural. hell, completely understandable you would wanna scapegoat someone. place the burden of blame on someone ELSE'S shoulders. well, sure, okay, if it makes you feel better, but ... in a way, really, the one you should be blaming is ... yourself. you may not see this now, but in the fullness of time, you will see you caused this. caused it when you told me to follow my dreams.

or have you forgotten bout the time when you told me to follow my dreams. yeah, i was working at the bank, pulling down a nice chunk of change every month, but was beside myself with deliberating over whether to join jimmy in his quixotic folly of opening a restaurant for which the world was in no way clamoring. you asked if it was my dream. and i said not really but it'd be better than working for some stupid bank. you said i should follow my dream then. i even had real bad second thoughts. i called the bank to see if they'd filled my position (they hadn't, and in fact, never did. apparently, they realized three could do the job of four, long as the fourth was me). you told me not to give up. hang in there, you said. which i did, but only cause you told me.

yeah, sure, this is following dreams alright. this is what hanging in there got me. nine in the morning til midnight every single damn day, and you know what's the worst thing? jimmy's gonna call for updates. some island paradise, with drinks and swimming and fresh seafood and lovely tanned bodies but he'll be calling to piss me off by making sure i haven't loused things up. it'll be just like he's in pentwater, just like he's in michigan, only the connection'll be much worse. much more static-y, and in the background i will hear drunken tropical revelry.

so ... you know ... like i said. you could say it's all your fault. BUT, if you're hell bent on blaming external forces, blame jimmy. blame glen. you always resented them anyway. you blame jimmy for me working myself stupid with so little to show for it when all is said and done. you know how incredibly filthy stinking not-rich i am, whereas he's so very much less not-rich than me it makes you angry. now, cause of jimmy you are alone until you find someone new or they come back from vacation and you and i can be together again.

and glen. yeah, you have your issues with glen, doncha. not only cause he's always only one jimmy phone call away from taking a cruise himself. no, there's also the way my mom likes glen better than me. like at christmas when he made such a big show of picking up the tab at dinner, and when mom protested that one time too many, he told her how much she was worth it, and she fell for it. that rankled you, didn't it. you know it did.

ALSO you don't think it's right that whenever glen and i walk into the room at the same time, fleegle goes to glen first. you think fleegle should come to me first cause i know how fleegle likes it. play heavy, give him hard skritches behind the ears and round the neck, then find some cheetos or fritos or lays to throw at him as a reward, but throw it a few feet to one side so fleegle has to leap through the air to catch it. (fleegle thinks it's a big accomplishment to snag food outta midair.) glen? he has no clue. he doesn't do anything other than say 'hi fleegle.' i can't imagine fleegle likes that better. so you think it's one of life's great imponderables why fleegle goes to him first. yeah, you don't much like glen either.

so hey. if you're gonna blame anyone for me leaving you (right now, it prolly seems like sweet, sweet freedom to you. finally out of that horrible barren siberia/gulag to which you had been banished. the only thing i will say is that initial thrill of freedom will lose its lustrous luster. i'm pretty sure it will. it's bound to), then blame either of them. cause it's their fault. (or they're to thank, if the luster remains.)

if the luster does remain, i won't hold it against you. if i call you up when i'm once again among the land of the not-married-to-their-work, and you tell me you greatly prefer life without me to life with me, i will hold no grudge. i hope you find someone who makes you happy. but ... not that guy i saw you with up on clark that one time. are you gonna call him? he ... i mean, he was at that stupid bar. guys who go to stupid bars tend to be stupid guys. i'd hate to see you with someone stupid.

myspace hit counter

Your tags:


Enter the amount, and click "Tip" to submit!
Recipient's email address:
Personal message (optional):

Your email address:


Type your comment below:
I hope you actually send her this letter. And I hope even more that she is waiting for you next Wednesday, Thursday or whenever. You love her man. Trust me on this. And I think she loves you too. Rated.
Awww, you twitchytailed breaker of hearts.
Shit squirrel, it's time to manifest someone de-pend-a-ble to work with. Then spend more time with the woman you're in love with.
I wish I could take my 5 months of minor restaurant experience at age 15 and come run the joint for a bit, just so you could spend some more time with an obviously-wonderful someone who I think you're pretty damn sweet on. But that's just me.
you're Really feeling sorry for yourself, aren't you? I'm sorry for you as well. But you gotta smack those doldrums down and seek the sunlight. It'll be all right. Or it'll be better.
This was tortured. And riveting. I loved it.
I'm just thinking of all the sex you could have had in the time it took to write this letter. ;)
Squirrel, you are starting to piss me off. I mean, really. With all the fucking unemployment out there, surely, surely, in a city the size of Chicago, you could get rid of all the losers you have working for you and get some real decent help and have a life. I mean, good fucking Lord! I am tired of lecturing you....
Love, Mom
oh God ... not Alan ...

who's Alan again?
I love your writing - your comic styling is smart, unique and cheeky. I'm wonder if there's an air of hyperbole there -- these folks you work for, I think you love having them around. If there is but *one* person you feel could possibly, seriosuly run the show, even on two of the slowest days, why not give them a chance? And, if not, then really, haven't you created your own problems by not being aboe to hire ONE person you can trust to do so?

I will, however, take this at face value and I do think your tongue is heavily in your cheek. It sounds like a fun bunch you have there and you obviously enjoy having them around.

I always admire in people their ability to point out and deliver the potential others have. I think, beneath the caustic exterior, you possess that, deliver it and that most of your employees leave feeling they have a fun boss with a taste for laughing at mayhem.

And while it was fun playing Sylvia Browne....keep writing and I'll keep laughing along. (Good luck with the dame)
C'mon squirrel, you know she loves you if she's stayed with you all this time. Also, that whole I'm-pulling-away-so-I-can-do-this-thing attitude? That just pisses women off. We know you, okay? We get it. We're willing to tough out the times when you're absent physically/mentally if you can engage most of the time. No need to martyr yourself and the relationship.
Got to ask, what is YOUR dream?


Anyways, here's some hope that everything will work out for ya. Work can be a breaker of relationships, trust me....
Squirrel, in the words of Don Henley, "And the work I put between us, you know it doesn't keep me war-ar-arm...."
That guy you saw her with up on Clark that time? If he's the one that looks like that guy in your banner...well, I just saw both of them in that stupid bar. And they were getting themselves really stupid.

You better hustle over there, squirrel....forget the restaurant...blond Julie can handle it long enough for you to hustle that gal outta the bar - 'cause you know you gotta have her. I mean nine (or ten) years invested, squirrel! AND she lets you eat all the lemon cookies. Go get her, you rodent you.
I think my husband would understand your post very well. He also fills every waking hour of every day (and some hours that shouldn't be waking hours) with work, and we don't have any time together for us. It's hard on me but I love him so dearly I'll never let him go.
i think nine. maybe ten times I laughed. i dunno, but it was a short time, I was reading, wasn't it. sure felt it, anyway.
I hope Ms. Stim doesn't read this. Then she'll want me to write long letters to her about how I want to be with her, but I can't because I have to work late. When the fact of the matter is that I could come home on time if I didn't have to stay late and work because I spent so much time writing her long letters.

Another gem, squirrel.
Men and women and relationships ... can't live with them, can't live without them. Can't cut them into little cubes.

Of course, your girlfriend could come down to work with some handcuffs and some melons. ::wiggling eyebrows:: WITH IMPUNITY.

As always, made me laugh, broke my heart. I'm beginning to enjoy them both together, and that worries me. ;)

By the way, don't take anyone's advice ... especially mine. ha.
for some reason this reminds me of a card my then-divorcing sister sent me (it was a terrible, bitter divorce:

Ah, men. You can't live with them.....(open card)
The End.

You could of course insert women in there in stead of men. I dunno - something about the humor of this - touching, but a little sting in there too.
*Sigh* You're right about stupid men in stupid bars... Hang in there, Jimmy'll be back soon...don't let stupid bar stupid guy get her!
Cheer up! Wednesday's not that far off!
I think you love her. I think she loves you. And Jimmy might owe you and her a cruise.

And I also think you may get a lot of pms from women offering to assuage the pain of your loss ;0) You are quite a popular guy.
This was a love letter if I ever saw one. Just a wonderfully weird one.
Rated yesterday. This is one of my favorite posts and that's saying a lot.
DAMN those dreams! Especially the half-hearted one's that really belong to someone else anyway. Don'tcha just hate when you get sucked into them?
You should have left her some cookies.
a nine or ten year investment, and you can't remember which? long time isn't it? easy to chuck on the grounds that you are doing something noble for her yet not asking her what she wants. sounds strange to me, but, hey, what does an old man know of love?

squirrel, don't you dare leave that woman.
Warning... I'm about to vent and use your post to do it. I apologize in advance. Here goes...
I AM that woman. What is it with this whole ihavetoleaveyoutopursuemyworkcauseicantmakeyouhappy bullshit? Seriously. Haven't you ever heard of work/life balance? Can't you just pick up a phone and say a quick "I love you"? That's all we really need. Just a quick "I'm thinking about you even though my day is hell". We really don't need that much more from you. You know, I can go read a book or listen to some music. I'm not sitting here pining away for you. Seriously.
Rant off. Thank you... I feel much better now:)
Actually, no, I'm not done. Sorry again, but please pardon the intrusion. Rant mode set to "ON"...
You know... I have a job too. My work is Hell. Sometimes I have really bad days. I'm sorry when I vent to you about my day and you treat it like it's another problem to deal with. Again, very little is required of you. All you need to do is hug me and say that everything's going to be OK. You solve my problems just by listening and being there. No active participation required. The problem is that you THINK a lot more is required in any given situation and so you do nothing. And then get mad that you didn't solve my problem. And then it's MY fault that I talked about my crappy day. And then all I get is this crappy letter saying you hope I find someone that makes me happy. Well I did, you moron... YOU!! You're the one that makes me happy. YOU!!!
Ahhhhhh....... so much better now. See? No active participation needed:)
I think you're justing testing her... I think you don't want her to go at all. That's what I think.
Maybe you just need to switch your brand of tea? Yes, I'm sure that will work...
Let me know if things don't work out between her and that guy at the bar. He sounds.....dreamy.
All you can do is tell the truth. And the truth in this is about as big as Montana or any given dish of bad Italian food at Maggianos.

And those calls from the Carribbean are ball breakers. Gotten more than a few of those myself.
Hey Dummy, you could solve this whole problem with a ring. I normally don't go around telling people to marry each other because secretly I have some pretty sour thoughts on the whole subject, but because I like you, I think it's something you should really consider or you'll be kicking yourself in the ass later. It'll be on your top ten list of things you'll be kicking your ass about--probably number 1 or maybe 2.
You could put the ring in the cookie bin, but yeah, you better also have some cookies in there, or she's going to be really pissed. Ring or no ring.