Happy Holidays!

Today was a good day. Busy busy busy till office lunch at AP Stumps at 11:45 where we were served by the most exquisitely flamboyant of homos (think, flock of seagulls hair and excessive oohing and ahhing over my gold plated dove necklace). The bossies ordered us three bottles of wine, resulting in a glorious tipsy glow for all, and the filet medallions were magnificent. Then they told us we didn't have to come in tomorrow and gave me a huge cash bonus. Yeah...I'll take that.

Now I could put this in my savings or spend like my life depends on it over the next two weeks.

Anyway, I wont' have internet access for the next couple weeks while I'm out of the office, so I hope everyone has a lovely holiday season. I plan on peppering mine with alternating bouts of blackout drunkenness and sleep.

Merry Christmas and Happy New Year!

coral lipstick. check. wife beater. check. now where the hell are my press-on nails???

Putting together a costume to dress like a trashy crackwhore from the trailers is a lot harder than it sounds. Looking through my closet, I was surprised to discover that I actually had NOTHING that would suffice to wear. That is equal parts upsetting/relieving. I now have to buy things, and buying things is hard work.

I went to Longs last night and was very displeased to discover that gone are the days where Lee proudly displayed their mulitpacks of press on nails in every hue under the sun. I went hoping for gold and was lucky to find one almost hidden pack of maroon. This will not do. Yeah, I could just buy and paint the french manicure ones they have on display by the hundreds, but now it has become a private battle to find the last standing pack of gold or otherwise offensive press on nails at a retail store. Watch out, Rite Aid, I'm coming for you tonight.

a bit touched

I woke up at 6:30 this morning from a dream where a man was slowly and quite painfully slicing off the tips of each and every one of my fingers. I was sitting at the kitchen table and I have no idea why he was doing it, but I watched as the knife cut through each one like a stick of butter. I instinctively curled my hands up into a ball when I woke up and I felt that weird dream-pain where you know it probably wouldn't really feel anything like it does but it's uncomfortable just the same. Then I started thinking about how there's no way the knife would have gone through my fingers like that since they aren't made of dough and have bones that would most likely stop the blade. So it was an unrealistic, but still alarming dream. It's at times like that I wish I didn't sleep alone most nights. Piglet is no protection from torture-minded intruders who want to sever my fingertips.

Work has been incredibly busy this week. But it did make me happy for a moment today to be able to control who in the company's association would be lucky enough to get a Holiday Greeting card this year. I enjoy pretending that the happiness of small office/warehouse/R&D tenants rests in my hands and mine alone. Congratulations, Silicon Optex, you made the cut! Yes, of course you may kiss my hand. Just be careful of the finger stumps.

last great american whale

So I just finished reading this book called The Average American Male. And I know, I am not male. But when I was at the library, I was intrigued enough to put it in my stack, and it was red, so you know, at least it will match my apartment for as long as I forget to take it back.

And let me just say... lame. I don't mean lame as in I take offense at its in your face macho attitude. I get that. I mean lame as in this book is way more of what the average american male wishes he was rather than the sad truth of what he is. Which makes it even sadder. The entire book consisted of the main characters stupid relationship with this twit of a girlfriend whose sole plan in life is to get married and get fat. Throughout this relationship he is miserable, until he meets a younger hotter girl he begins to have amazing sex with but ultimately and inescapably turns into the same kind of girl he broke up with before. I don't know if that is supposed to be a commentary on the fate of all society, but again, lame. The main character in the book is supposed to be the average male: horny, carefree, and stuck because all women want to tie him down. The first two, ok. I agree that most guys are like that. But to make all the female characters in the book hell bent on securing themselves a male to provide for them and take them off the market...I mean come on. I just don't think that works today. All the women I know are independent and do pretty damn well without a man to make them housewives. If anything, the women I know are more afraid of marriage than the men, and would much rather be free to do whatever they want than have to report to a complaining guy at home. I think this book could just as easily be called the average american female by changing all cocks to vaginas, all whiny girlfriends to crying whiny boyfriends, and we'd have the same damn story.

Moral: grow a pair, average american male. Your women have outgrown you and you haven't even realized it yet.