So I’m sitting here while watching Jamie Dimon do his ritual apology in front of the Senate Banking Committee, and I have a tea towel tied around my head to hold the ice bag. I woke up with a throbbing headache, something I don’t normally get, and I’m pretty cranky about it. I’ve also had a stiff neck for three days, and while I do have some muscle relaxers, I can’t take them now because I’ll be useless for the rest of the day. (Thought: Why does Sen. Richard Shelby dye what little is left of his hair? It looks like he uses brown shoe polish. Is it because he’s convinced it makes him look younger to the lobbyist-supplied hookers? You don’t see Jamie Fucking Dimon dying his gray hair. The man may be a crook but he’s a confident one!)
Richard Shelby may be the Senate’s worst speaker, and that’s saying something. No, I take that back. Tim Johnson is even worse.
As the hearing started, a group of foreclosure protesters confronted Dimon, telling him to “face the people you foreclosed upon.” It sounded like some of the Very Important People in the room were laughing at them. Well, why wouldn’t they? No one’s going to steal their houses, or take their jobs.
This morning I found out I didn’t get one of the jobs for which I was interviewing. I didn’t think I would, and didn’t want to work there, anyway. But I need a job, and really soon. It’s all I think about, really. (That might have something to do with the neck.) I’m so worried.
I’m also trying to figure out if the yogurt I ate for dinner gave me the headache. It’s the sinus-y kind, where the entire upper half of my face and the top of my head hurts – hence, the ice pack on the head.
This is not a good day, and this is not a good country anymore. I have to figure out how to swim through it all.
UPDATE: Just to top thing off, just got a $100 ticket in the mail from one of the city’s red-light cameras. I feel like Job.