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It has been brought to my attention that I possess two… talents. Yes, that is what we shall call them. Quite frankly, I find both of these skills hilarious as hell for a variety of reasons, so I’m going to let you laugh at with me.

1. I am a professional break up coach

Apparently, my sordid misadventures in romantic life have made me a breakup consult of the highest order. People I know actually refer friends and family to me and I help them cope with their loss. The anger, the tears, I get it all. I’m putting together a package for one of my sister’s friends that includes boxes of candy, tons of hot cocoa mix, nail polish and girly things, and CDs full of sad, angry music.

Like this:

But on the other hand… what the ever loving hell? I should get a large, sparkly award or something for seriously failing so frequently and so horrifically people look at me and go “Hey! She’s an expert at dealing with the horrific anguish that comes with destroying romance! The horrors of the abyss have gnawed her shattered bones in the ruins of her temple, yet she still drags herself back into the light to live in the world of mortals! Teach us your ways, great destroyer of joy…”

This shall do nicely... Maybe tumblr is good at something!

This shall do nicely… Maybe tumblr is good at something!

My favorite is when people regale me with their sadness and pain, and when they annoy the crap out of me (after the 20th time they want to tell the story of their heartbreak) I tell them about my latest misadventure. They actually stop and cry for me. It’s like the fact that I’m still a functioning member of society is enough to make them see past their pain and move on with their life.

I find it hilarious and in all honesty, I’m happy to help. I believe that good comes from everything, so if I can give back in this way… so be it. Plus, I kinda like having the breakup equivalent of an atomic bomb to use in disputes.

2. I am mighty fine at covering my own ass.

I will go above and beyond. I will go out of my way. I will do trivial and meaningless bullshit all in the name of CYA. Today I made a schedule for my department. A damn schedule with pastel pink, blue, and green boxes that says when we have to do shit. Because there are only two of us, I divided all of our tasks down to answering email. I have our day scheduled so tightly that I included time slots for complaining about out lady problems. Because I don’t want to be dragged down in a glorious haze of complete failure. I told my office manager that if and when shit goes wrong in the morning, she can destroy me. But in the afternoon? Hands off. Hands totally, totally off. I’ll be working on my pet projects and making pretty gold gift bags.

Because I’m awesome at CYA. That’s why.