Last night I was walking home from my swim class and I spotted a guy walking a dog up ahead.
I got a little closer and was pleased to see that he seemed to be quite the hottie. Shoulder length brown hair, super tall and thin. Not that I am looking...but hey, eye candy is eye candy. And there ain't much of it where I live.
I took a better look and realized, this was a KID. He was probably no older than 16, out walking the family dog. And I was checking him out like a vulture circling a school of baby ducks.
I know I like 'em young, but EW.
Wednesday, February 28, 2007
Tuesday, February 27, 2007
Mal a Tete
I’ve had a raging headache for the last two days that I cannot seem to shake.
It is a headache the likes of which I have seen before, but I’d hoped I’d never have to see again.
It is the kind of pain that sucks all the life out of me. It’s the only thing that can zap me of any kind of appetite (and as we all know, that’s pretty damn hard!)
It is the type of pain that, if Adrien Grenier were to ask me for sex right now, I’d have absolutely no desire, and would most definitely say no.
THAT my friends, is PAIN!
Although I have been ill with some flu-ey thing since last Friday, and I’m pretty sure that this headache stems from the fact that my sinuses are clogged since I can’t take medicine or I’ll go into some sort of cardiac arrest, which would be quite distressing for myself and those around me, I imagine…of course, I have self-diagnosed myself with the world’s largest brain tumor. What else could possibly be contributing to this pounding in my skull?
No amount of Advil has helped. I’ve moved onto Aleve. Not helping.
Perhaps someone will come to my aid. Put me out of my misery. Shoot me like a lame horse. Give me a sedative.
This headache is becoming a real pain in the ass.
It is a headache the likes of which I have seen before, but I’d hoped I’d never have to see again.
It is the kind of pain that sucks all the life out of me. It’s the only thing that can zap me of any kind of appetite (and as we all know, that’s pretty damn hard!)
It is the type of pain that, if Adrien Grenier were to ask me for sex right now, I’d have absolutely no desire, and would most definitely say no.
THAT my friends, is PAIN!
Although I have been ill with some flu-ey thing since last Friday, and I’m pretty sure that this headache stems from the fact that my sinuses are clogged since I can’t take medicine or I’ll go into some sort of cardiac arrest, which would be quite distressing for myself and those around me, I imagine…of course, I have self-diagnosed myself with the world’s largest brain tumor. What else could possibly be contributing to this pounding in my skull?
No amount of Advil has helped. I’ve moved onto Aleve. Not helping.
Perhaps someone will come to my aid. Put me out of my misery. Shoot me like a lame horse. Give me a sedative.
This headache is becoming a real pain in the ass.
Monday, February 26, 2007
Tissue? I Hardly Even Know You!
Sleepy early Sunday morning sex.
Sitting on top of the boy, things are moving along just swimmingly. Everything feels just right, I’m getting into my groove.
“Achooooo!” I feel a spray of snot on my right tit.
“Um. Bless you?” I think this is the appropriate reponse to a mid-coital sneeze.
Except, then he reached for the tissues.
I stopped moving and just stared at him, not really sure what to do next. “Don’t stop, don’t stop” he begged, as he blew a fresh wad of snot into a Kleenex.
I continued to fuck the shit out of him as the Kleenex was tossed aside.
I guess there’s such a thing as being a little too comfortable. :)
Sitting on top of the boy, things are moving along just swimmingly. Everything feels just right, I’m getting into my groove.
“Achooooo!” I feel a spray of snot on my right tit.
“Um. Bless you?” I think this is the appropriate reponse to a mid-coital sneeze.
Except, then he reached for the tissues.
I stopped moving and just stared at him, not really sure what to do next. “Don’t stop, don’t stop” he begged, as he blew a fresh wad of snot into a Kleenex.
I continued to fuck the shit out of him as the Kleenex was tossed aside.
I guess there’s such a thing as being a little too comfortable. :)
Friday, February 23, 2007
Life's Little Paradoxes
The other day I was on the elevator going to work, and it stopped on the second floor.
A dour faced woman got on, gave everyone a look of pure disgust, and turned to face the front.
I noticed that she was wearing a very vibrant sweater with colorful little parrots all over it. The parrots were feathery and eye-catching, and really quite cheerful.
One would think that, with an ensemble that reeked of cheer, the person wearing such a thing would be just a tad more pleasant.
Or maybe she wears happy parrots on her clothes to deflect away from the fact that she's a miserable bitch. Who really knows for sure.
A dour faced woman got on, gave everyone a look of pure disgust, and turned to face the front.
I noticed that she was wearing a very vibrant sweater with colorful little parrots all over it. The parrots were feathery and eye-catching, and really quite cheerful.
One would think that, with an ensemble that reeked of cheer, the person wearing such a thing would be just a tad more pleasant.
Or maybe she wears happy parrots on her clothes to deflect away from the fact that she's a miserable bitch. Who really knows for sure.
Thursday, February 22, 2007
Another Reason Why They Pay Me The Big Bucks
One of my clients insists on using a funky form for inputting estimates, the likes of which I have never encountered before.
Truth be told, back in October, I was sent to a seminar specifically to teach me how to process said form, but of course, I daydreamed throughout the entire thing, thinking about how excited I was to be a block away from the West Village Jacques Torres store, and man I was gonna go pick me up some truffles like there was no tomorrow, and Jesus when is this seminar gonna be over anyway?
As you can imagine, I didn’t learn much in the seminar.
Here we are, four months later, and I’m finally sitting down to type up some estimates for a project. How hard can this be?
I’ll tell you how hard. So hard that I spent ALL DAY yesterday (with an hour’s break to go to the rapist) fiddling around with the system, doing online tutorials. When I finally thought I’d figured it all out, the motherfucker would log off automatically, and I would lose everything. When I finally figured out how to save everything, there would be some weird category that I wouldn’t know the answer to, and I would have to wait 5 hours for someone to get back to me with the proper info to input.
Mind you, in order to have access to this system, you have to have someone in INDIA assign you a username and password. Which in and of itself, took two weeks.
The emails went a bit like this:
Me: I need to gain access to the ________ system. Please add me as a user.
India: (3 days later) You’ve been added to the system. Please stand by for the email with your password.
Me: I did not receive my password.
India: (3 days later) Did you get our email with your password yet? You should have received that.
Me: No. Please resend.
India: Did you?
Me: Motherfucking shitass whorebags no I did not get the fucking email with my fucking password yet, can you please connect me with a real person who can actually help me with this because it’s now been 2 fucking weeks and still no password, and I am basically sitting around with my thumb up my ass until I can gain access to your retarded system that makes sense to no one but YOU. You assholes!
Needless to say, that didn’t exactly get me my password.
Just a word of advice to anyone who is in the process of setting up a system that is supposed to “better” the workload or make things more “efficient”. It ain’t gonna happen. Just know that your employees are going to expend more energy trying to figure out the process. More energy going to the bathroom to scream and tear their hair out. More energy complaining about it. Believe me, I know. I’m on day 2 of inputting the same stupid estimate…something that should have taken half an hour.
I’m pretty sure that, had I paid attention at the stupid seminar…I’d still be in the same boat. So don’t get all high and mighty on my ass, dear readers. ;)
Truth be told, back in October, I was sent to a seminar specifically to teach me how to process said form, but of course, I daydreamed throughout the entire thing, thinking about how excited I was to be a block away from the West Village Jacques Torres store, and man I was gonna go pick me up some truffles like there was no tomorrow, and Jesus when is this seminar gonna be over anyway?
As you can imagine, I didn’t learn much in the seminar.
Here we are, four months later, and I’m finally sitting down to type up some estimates for a project. How hard can this be?
I’ll tell you how hard. So hard that I spent ALL DAY yesterday (with an hour’s break to go to the rapist) fiddling around with the system, doing online tutorials. When I finally thought I’d figured it all out, the motherfucker would log off automatically, and I would lose everything. When I finally figured out how to save everything, there would be some weird category that I wouldn’t know the answer to, and I would have to wait 5 hours for someone to get back to me with the proper info to input.
Mind you, in order to have access to this system, you have to have someone in INDIA assign you a username and password. Which in and of itself, took two weeks.
The emails went a bit like this:
Me: I need to gain access to the ________ system. Please add me as a user.
India: (3 days later) You’ve been added to the system. Please stand by for the email with your password.
Me: I did not receive my password.
India: (3 days later) Did you get our email with your password yet? You should have received that.
Me: No. Please resend.
India: Did you?
Me: Motherfucking shitass whorebags no I did not get the fucking email with my fucking password yet, can you please connect me with a real person who can actually help me with this because it’s now been 2 fucking weeks and still no password, and I am basically sitting around with my thumb up my ass until I can gain access to your retarded system that makes sense to no one but YOU. You assholes!
Needless to say, that didn’t exactly get me my password.
Just a word of advice to anyone who is in the process of setting up a system that is supposed to “better” the workload or make things more “efficient”. It ain’t gonna happen. Just know that your employees are going to expend more energy trying to figure out the process. More energy going to the bathroom to scream and tear their hair out. More energy complaining about it. Believe me, I know. I’m on day 2 of inputting the same stupid estimate…something that should have taken half an hour.
I’m pretty sure that, had I paid attention at the stupid seminar…I’d still be in the same boat. So don’t get all high and mighty on my ass, dear readers. ;)
Friday, February 16, 2007
"Reeking" havoc
Although I work in a creative capacity, sometimes I have to attend these important-ish meetings. Meetings where people wear ties and panty hose.
Meetings where people use phrases like "penny wise and pound foolish" and where clients spew things like, "her photography makes me think deep, gloomy death thoughts."
Thankfully, I can coast through most of these meetings never having to say a word, just making a peep here and there, giving the impression that I am a team player and I know what the hell I'm doing. I mean, that's why they pay me the big bucks, right?
This morning, I was in a meeting that was a carryover from the night before. We spent two and a half hours discussing the tone of a certain print campaign, and could not agree on who we wanted to shoot it. We slept on it, reconvened this morning, and after two more hours of discussing WHY we didn't want "deep gloomy death thoughts" to ruin everyone's day...finally agreed on a photographer.
As I zoned out for the millionth time, a pungent aroma tickled my nostrils. Actually, I think it pummeled my nostrils...it was really strong, and reeked of bottled up fart.
It was my duty to figure out who cut this rather large piece of cheese, for lack of better things to do. I looked around the room and surveyed the area. There was my beautiful Aussie art director, who would never do such a thing. There was the quite puny suit guy, who couldn't make such a big smell if he tried. Then there was the young guy, fresh out of college, frat rat. It HAD to be him. He probably rips farts like it's his job, right?
Satisfied with my conclusion, I turned to the girl sitting next to me. Very skinny, stylish girl, eating a hard boiled egg. Eating a hard boiled egg that smelled really nasty. Like...you guessed it...a fart.
I apologize to the frat rat college guy for thinking that he dropped an F-bomb in our meeting. I hope he can forgive me.
Meetings where people use phrases like "penny wise and pound foolish" and where clients spew things like, "her photography makes me think deep, gloomy death thoughts."
Thankfully, I can coast through most of these meetings never having to say a word, just making a peep here and there, giving the impression that I am a team player and I know what the hell I'm doing. I mean, that's why they pay me the big bucks, right?
This morning, I was in a meeting that was a carryover from the night before. We spent two and a half hours discussing the tone of a certain print campaign, and could not agree on who we wanted to shoot it. We slept on it, reconvened this morning, and after two more hours of discussing WHY we didn't want "deep gloomy death thoughts" to ruin everyone's day...finally agreed on a photographer.
As I zoned out for the millionth time, a pungent aroma tickled my nostrils. Actually, I think it pummeled my nostrils...it was really strong, and reeked of bottled up fart.
It was my duty to figure out who cut this rather large piece of cheese, for lack of better things to do. I looked around the room and surveyed the area. There was my beautiful Aussie art director, who would never do such a thing. There was the quite puny suit guy, who couldn't make such a big smell if he tried. Then there was the young guy, fresh out of college, frat rat. It HAD to be him. He probably rips farts like it's his job, right?
Satisfied with my conclusion, I turned to the girl sitting next to me. Very skinny, stylish girl, eating a hard boiled egg. Eating a hard boiled egg that smelled really nasty. Like...you guessed it...a fart.
I apologize to the frat rat college guy for thinking that he dropped an F-bomb in our meeting. I hope he can forgive me.
Wednesday, February 14, 2007
Drunk in the Office
After spending the entire day chained to my desk working on one thing or another (I swear, I was even too busy to surf the net, read my blog list, etc), I attended a portfolio review where there was free wine and cupcakes.
The free wine was located about 30 feet from my desk. How convenient.
Being that I have really stuck to my detox January, and am on a once a week drinking regimen, a couple of glasses of wine at 4 in the afternoon is really, really, really a bad idea.
I just went from being the quiet girl in the corner, to being that loud, obnoxious asshole who won't shut up.
I'm perky. I'm chatty. I'm making small talk. Small Talk!
I think I just propositioned the cleaning lady. Oh lord. Time to go home.
The free wine was located about 30 feet from my desk. How convenient.
Being that I have really stuck to my detox January, and am on a once a week drinking regimen, a couple of glasses of wine at 4 in the afternoon is really, really, really a bad idea.
I just went from being the quiet girl in the corner, to being that loud, obnoxious asshole who won't shut up.
I'm perky. I'm chatty. I'm making small talk. Small Talk!
I think I just propositioned the cleaning lady. Oh lord. Time to go home.
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