Friday, December 29, 2006

I'm Moving to Chicago. Don't Pass it On.

I'm extremely paranoid about mentioning this but then again, I'm pretty paranoid about everything I do. Others might call it anxiety. And still others might call it psychoses. Whatever you call it, it doesn't negate the fact that there are work-related spies on my site lately. At this point, however, I could deal with getting fired. I just want out. Reasons tbd at a later date.

Now when I say "spies" I don't mean the Russian kind. Dave, my sweet Russian boyfriend, likes to pretend he's a spy for the KGB but we both know his only means of getting information out of anyone is feeding them alcohol and waiting for their tongues to loosen. Not very innovative now is it? I could probably teach him a thing or two.

The main reason I want to go to Chicago is obvious: him. I was talking to my dear old friend Bobby last night (coincidentally, Bobby claims to have a past with the mafia, but what Italian guy doesn't claim that?). I told him that I wanted to be in Chicago by April.

"Don't you like New York?" He asked
"Love it. Don't beat around the bush, Bobby. You know why I'm moving."
"Oh come on! You're moving for a guy?"
"Yep. I hate the long distance. One of us flying in and out of town all the time. It sucks."
"I don't know how you do that. When I lived in New York I broke up with a girl because she lived in a five story walk-up. Forget flying all over the country for someone."

Anyway, the cases people make against moving for a boyfriend or girlfriend are funny. These same people would be more than willing to move out of state for a good job. I haven't had a job yet that treats me as well as Dave does. I can't wait. On that note, I need a job. If you offer me one, I promise not to write about you here (I'll just start another blog for that purpose). Also, I don't plan to get pregnant any time soon. I know that's the question so many employers want to ask but rarely do. You're welcome.

Alright, off to Miami. Have a great New Years Eve everyone! I'll be lapping up champagne with Dave's parents, basking in my own cool and celebrating the fact that I'm not blowing $350 to get into a mediocre club where the chicks pee on toilets.


Chad said...

If I knew how to spell "Tu Che'" correctly, I would at this point!

That's a splendid way of combating the discouragingly sound appearance of logic in that of putting your career before a guy/girl. Let's fucking live a little!

Cherokee said...

touche? Is that the word you're looking for?

Anonymous said...

Not to mention the fact that you have already lived and lived sucessfully in loved the city!


Ben said...

Moving anywhere for another person is stoopid, but good luck. Honestly, I haven't been great about reading your blog lately, so I had thought you already went.

Gigi said...

Well, I'd say the alternative (a prolonged long term relationship) is even more "stoopid." One of us has to budge.

I'm not leaving much behind here and if we break up, I'll be in a good city with, most likely, a better job. Staying here because I love the city doesn't seem like a good argument.

But anyway, why haven't you been reading lately? The baby? Or, because I've been lazy about posting? It better be the former! Welcome back, old friend.