Sunday, March 2, 2008

Jeff Tweedy is trying to break my heart.

It's a beautiful, sunny day. I'm painting my son's room an impossibly cheery color, listening to Wilco and trying not to cry.

For the last 9 months or so, I have been preparing to leave my fat corporate job and go to work for a non-profit foundation that I adore. I mean, if they made baseball cards of these people, I would have all of them. Framed. I don't think I could have dreamed up a position that would better suit my skill set as well as my passion. They actually created the position just for me! It's a big drop from corporate money to a non-profit salary, but there was no question in my mind that I would rather cut corners and follow my bliss.

Of course, my financial picture has changed somewhat since X left. X is thirty-nine, by the way, and he left me for an eighteen year old girl. And yes, you're damn right I'm bitter. As a matter of fact, I will henceforth refer to him as XS. Extra small, indeed.

Anyway, last week, I met with my financial advisor, who told me in no uncertain terms that I cannot afford to take my dream job unless they're willing to give me significantly more money. I have explained my situation to Dream Job, Inc., and they are looking into it but I'm not holding my breath. Well, actually, I am holding my breath, but I'm not optimistic.

For the last ten years, XS has lived completely off of my largesse. I funded several album projects and an entire recording studio (none of which made a dime), and then paid all the bills so that he could go back to school full time, finish his bachelor's and get a master's degree. After years of waiting for my frog to turn into the prince he kept swearing to God that he was, he finally got a job... and then he left.

Fine, I thought. At least he's done fucking up my life, I thought.

My bad.

"Just shouldn't ever have to be this

Amen, Brother Tweedy.


liv said...


I have been contemplating why I love and want to sex Jeff ALL day long while listening to Sky Blue Sky.

Damn you. Damn you straight to see me, because I love you and want to marry you asap.

flutter said...

XS indeed, and in another year, 18 will be 19 and gone. Not that it matters.

Thank god you are rid of him.

furiousBall said...

Via Chicago is one of the most beautiful songs ever written ever.


fooped said...

Liv - you rent us a coupl'a white tuxedoes and I'm in.

Flutter - you're exactly right. As someone put it so perfectly the other day: he's no loss to me and no gain to her.

Furiousball - you speak the truth.

bzybead said...

sister sledge, you will find your way . . . and did you know that Dan teaches at the school where Jeff's daughter goes to school and he stole pencils from Lindsey Tweedy to give to Greg for his birthday last year. I broke the eraser off one of them the other day and Greg was displeased.

bzybead said...
This comment has been removed by the author.
bzybead said...

I neglected to say that the pencils were monogrammed with her name in gold block letters.

Chicky Chicky Baby said...

Um, just between you and me...

If you want something "done" to him, I know people. That's all I'm going to say on the matter.


Oh, The Joys said...

This fills me with rage. Come down. Bring the dogs (I typed GODS three times first) and keep them in the back yard (fenced.) Come. Come. Come.

The Chick said...

She's a Jar is my feel like shit song. I do love Wilco. Hang in, my sista.

jakelliesmom said...

My family lives the non-profit life. Ours is not as cushy as some I know, but at the end of the day, we know we're doing something that counts.

If you had done it all differently, would you trade the love and hope for the knowledge that you have now?

fooped said...

jakelliesmom - you are spot on with that question. I don't think I'm in a place yet where I have the perspective to answer it, but I am trying to keep the idea of the question in mind.

When bad stuff happens, I try to imagine myself looking back on it from a place far in the future, when I can comfortably say, "wow, that sucked!"

Maggie said...

My angry music is anything by Ozzy. I'm not very original, but I can head-bang like a mofo.

XS - xtra small, x-spoogehead

fooped said...

Maggie - I read your monkey poo post just about an hour ago (almost hurt myself laughing) and can't tell you how delighted I am that you've stopped by and made another excretory reference right here on my little blog!

Thanks for making a grumpy girl smile. :)

My angry music du jour is Public Enemy's Fear of a Black Planet. I look wicked cool rappin along with Flava Flav in my little Subaru.

No, really.

JoeinVegas said...

OH, geez, please don't say he's now suing for spousal support.