Tonight I shouldn’t write because I’m upset. Very upset. But since I’ve grown up I don’t stuff myself anymore with Nutella (the most über-powerful anti-depressive EVER, I’ve heard that ingredients had being studied by CIA). No, now I’ve just found another way to be a masochist: I share my feelings with the net, so with YOU unknown reader, who must think I’m some kind of last-chance-wannabe Anna dello Russo-the-Sartorialist admirer. Well, first of all I hate Anna dello Russo. We have Anna Piaggi – and trust me, it’s already enough –and nobody urge to have another old woman dressing with simply stupid mises. But since even the fashion system has some kind of self adjustment laws, for which you can’t have two exhibitionists on the same country, the system itself tried to push her (or, export as they say Italian style) in the USA, finding another way to help our export score. But poor Anna didn’t know that the USA were already taken by Daphne Guinness, the beer heiress that has nothing better to do but spending money on otherwise unwearable haute couture clothing, calling herself a muse and getting naked into Barney’s shop windows. Well, well, well, getting started on rich and weird (and useless) old ladies obsessed by fashion actually helped me forgetting for a little why I’m upset. And now I’m afraid you want to know why I am upset. Well, I’m upset simply because my boss it’s a jerk. Voilà! What has he done? You may wonder. What has he done?! Who told you it’s a “he”? I share with very few people around the world the very unique gift of having tree bosses (two man and a woman) and two mothers in laws. Lucky me, uh? I bet none of you has five people at their service with the only purpose of driving them crazy. So, long story short, tonight two of my bosses in a very formal and courteous meeting informed me that, well, they are forced (I mean “forced”) to cut my hours since the present situation suggested so. After that announcement every form of insult in every language I know crossed my mind but — and I’m very proud of myself — in a NON-Italian way I managed to stay calm, with a blank expression, and with all the remaining forces out of my Chthonic self, politely managing the situation trying to get the best out of it. How very adult, you may consider. How very adult my ****! I could kill with my very own hands now!
P.S. The writing on the picture is ancient Greek saying “know thyself” and it was written on the entrance at the temple of Apollo at Delphi. And if you don’t Apollo nor Delphi, you should read more, darling!