No, I haven't been possessed by the spirit of Joey Tribiani. The above is, word for word, the text message I received from BT early last night.
How am I "doin"? In a word, "crappy", but much of that is due to being sick and having no energy for fun things (or really, much of anything). Somehow, I dragged myself to work yesterday, and even made it to a job interview in the afternoon. Sadly, I'm pretty sure I don't want the job, another bummer.
I called Magazine Mitch yesterday and left him a message postponing our...hanging out (won't be presumptuous enough to think of it as a date). Came home and got that text from BT. I honestly didn't know how to respond. I called Podcast Penny, who made me realize that I didn't want BT and I to get caught up in a long text discussion. I sucked it up and called him. Got his voicemail. Left a message, mustering as much casual charm as I could, joked about being hopped up on cold medication.
He didn't call back, but I was busy jobhunting and passed out so early anyway, so it doesn't matter. Much. Plus, I'm trying to focus more on looking for a new job these days, less on looking for a new man (that will happen in its own time).
Today hasn't been so great, either. After making conclusively sure that I would not be sick on the subway, I crawled into the office again, where I have been steadily assaulted with tasks and have cried at my desk not once, but twice (let's remember that being sick makes me even more of an emotional wuss than I normally am).
The positive thing about illness is that it makes it easy to not care about boys who don't call. The negative thing about illness (other than feeling like poo on a cracker) is that it can trigger self-pity mode. I have to keep reminding myself that my body will regain its strength, this achiness and congestion will go away, and I will return to my former exuberant self. It just sucks to be me right this second.
So yeah, if you ask how I'm "doin" I'd have to say I've been better. And I'm a bit disgruntled with boys.