Tuesday, July 25, 2006

Appreciate the Irony

The only agenda item my manager brought to the table at yesterdays branch meeting was the corporate produced memo about professional dress.

Today, I figure if always stand up straight, my button down collared shirt is long enough to cover the pockets and zipper of my pink jeans (that one person thought were linen slacks, don't hate).

The regional manager decides, after a week of threatening to be in our office, that today is the day.
I sit in my chair ALL MORNING so she can't possibly catch a glimpse of what are so obviously jeans pockets OR my open toed sandals (they have a moderate heel, but still).

Woman-ness is amazing in so many ways.
There are certain days however when all womanly parts can take a flying leap out my 15th story window.
Today, thanks to Aunt Flo and her always amazingly timed visits, was a day like this.

In an ibuprofen haze, I traipse through Target looking for a new outfit to wear.
Everything is XXXL. No Joke. If it wasn't a tent, it was maternity wear.
Even a dress would have been an improvement on my current situation, and since I have shaved this week, a skirt to match my dress shirt would have been worn out of the dressing room.
Somehow I refuse to pay $30 for a pair of ill-fitting AND off color anything, even if they would stay on without suspenders.

As I'm wondering why this had to be the week I cleaned out my car and the 5 pairs of shoes and 4 pair of pants and 3 gym outfits out of my backseat, I ponder the awesome coincidence of it all. Then curse under my breath at every step toward the Shout It Out stick of purse sized detergent that might get me out of this.

On my way I pass the lingerie.
"At least clean panties would be some improvement" and I continue with the internal Tazmanian Devil talk.

So, with the regional manager in the office, I come back from lunch, late, with my drive thru food in hand, in PJ pants.

Salvation comes in navy blue cotton with an M on the tag next to the $10 red sticker.

The day after the memo about professional dress in the office, and on the morning I cave to the call of the jeans, I end up this afternoon sitting Indian style in my chair in pants with an elastic waistband.

How is your Thank-Jebus-Its-Not-Monday turning out?

EDIT: I LOVE when Laurie comes back with an edit, and with the reading of all her most recent posts in a row this afternoon, she is part of the reason I needed to post today.
Also I must credit Mr. Techie, who is the reason for the post more directly as this started as an email to him. I thought he might get the fun of the corporate policy smackdown meaning just nothing to me when I dressed myself TWICE today.
And I will grace you all with a bit of why he is at the forfront of my workday thougthts, his reply:
Do you write poetry? You must at least keep a journal.
Though not one to have me giggling or falling out of my chair in a spasm of laughter, he DID manage to put a smile on my sourpuss face today, and for that I bombard his email DAILY.

Sunday, July 23, 2006

I'm Melting

I'm not kidding.

I woke up this morning at 8:45am for no reason except I was too hot to sleep.
This is after waiting until 1am to go upstairs last night because I refused to sleep on the couch.
Well, I was there all day and passed out from the heat three times, but shut up.
It was STILL.SO.FUCKING.HOT. at 1:30am that even in my heat induced coma, I couldn't actually sleep. To boot, my dog was panting enough to create a breeze of her own and I felt just awful about it. So I got the both of us cool towels to lay under. She appreciated it, but couldn't sit under a towel no matter what. I finally convinced her she didn't have to sleep with me and could hijack some floor space from T.
T got a new window sized AC unit from her sister who bought it when her central AC went out. After checking the electric bill (do we all remember what happened when Squeeky and K got heaters for their rooms??), she decided $15 a month was worth being comfortable in her room.
T came home last night at 11pm and reported it was 93* out. Its been dark for hours at this point ya'll. This isn't a sun vs. shade issue at 11pm. This may have been an accurate reading. Which means my house is holding onto however hot it was at 4pm and is ready to cool down to whatever it is outside.
OK. So its 1:30am, My Georgeous Girl has finally remembered the 4 times I marched her into T's room and said "stay. sleep. be happy my love." and throws T's door open. Well, this gets them all up. T takes a piss while I try to wrangle the two cats and two dogs back into her room before she gets back. T's room was 75* at that point. Her carpet shocked my feet with the cold. I am LIVID that she won't leave the door open, but I'll just take that towel soaked in cold water and sleep under that.
No big.
Until I wake up at 8:45am. T had to be at work at 8am. Both dogs are drooling puddles and panting while laying next to my box spring on the floor I call a bedroom set. I am rolling to the beat of their breathes. My skin has been sitting in a wet towel for 7 hours. The fan blades are click click click clicking against the box that contains them. My weekends usually entail sleeping til noon, taking a shower, puting on a bikini, tanning while reading a book or magazine, taking a dip in the pool, then thinking about all the stuff I could do but instead melting into the couch with a cool beverage and remote and hoping it chills enough to get up to my room at a reasonable time.
Yeah. So today I know the dogs will finally go downstairs and sleep on the tiles and I can get some shut eye. I roll the barely wet but still cool towel off me, roll over, and instantly know that the pillow is too hot to be comfortable. I roll the other way, pull a pillow from the bottom of the stack, and THAT one is also too hot to sleep on.
"Fuckity fuckin this is some bullshit ain't it FUCK" is the first sentance I uttered today.
The dogs instantly pop up and try to be excited to see me but can only muster a "hey, my mouth is wide open to pant not smile give me a fuckin break and help a hair covered beast out would ya!"
I let them outside. I decide to take a shower. I pull back the curtain, place my left hand on the oposite tile wall, lean in over the toilet to turn on the water, and nearly faceplant onto the spout because of that silly "hey this is fuckin hot I can't touch it any more so back the fuck off of it" reflex.
Thats right. At 9am, the tile of my shower wall was so hot my hand couldn't tell me it was scalding hot before jerking violently away from it.

My body is revolting against being boiled and I feel every orifice leaking out.
No, I didn't eat a narely mexican dinner that was left out.
No, Aunt Flo has decided this is an inhospitable environment and REFUSES to visit, though she dropped her bags off THURSDAY at lunch (just in time for me to call Mr. Lamer #2 and say "we had plans tonight, if its a party of three, do you still want me over?" Its SUNDAY. No Flo. What a bitch.)
Yes, I am drinking 20 oz of water every 90 minutes.
No, I haven't peed yet this weekend. Not. Kidding. Not. Funny. Tried drinking beer with the water to get SOMETHING to fill my bladder. I didn't drink fast enough (HAHAHAHAhahahaha) or I am THAT dehydrated from, um, SITTING ON THE COUCH all day yesterday.

So its now Sunday at 1:15pm. My internet at home has been down since T had the AC unit on with her computer and TV and DVD and 2 fans and decided to blow dry her hair (because her room is too cold to let it dry by itself) on TUESDAY. (C, I forgot to print your instructions - I was all "oh, my friend emailed me how to fix it, FUCK!!!". Its printed and in my purse right now, maybe we can avoid a service charge for tomorrow??)
I abandoned my Ever So Loving No Matter How Miserable She Is Gorgeous Girl after placing her kicking and screaming into the pool to sit on the top step (don't want to drown her and she is SHORT on those 5" legs). Her look to me said "what the fuck is the matter with you why am I in water you know I hate being in water and I look at you like your an idiot when you're in here why aren't you in here and why are you talking to me like I'M the one who is being stupid for trying to get out but fuck I'm too short and too long to get out on my own please stop splashing me and why can't I move this step is too narrow to do anything but take this torture you are SSOOOO not getting any kisses after this".
Thats about all I could take from her before fishing her 50 lbs out and watching the water evaporate instantaneously as she took two steps and quit dripping. I didn't even need a towel ya'll.
Fuck. Its. Hot.
It was 10am and already too hot to handle sitting outside.
So I've got her core tempurature mediated by the dip, gave her a rawhide to play with so she would plop down on her dog bed and sit under the fan for a bit (slick trick, I know, but it worked for me and I am TRYING to not come home to a heat stroked dog!), and I slip out the front door.
I drive to the office to get online.
I pretend I'll do the 5 hours of work I need to do to be caught up. I sit here blogging instead.
I realize have to go get an oil change, buy tampons, and attempt to get out of the grocery store with more than junk food. Maybe I'll still get into the bikini this weekend. If I'm going to be a sweat covered sloth, I might as well get the euphoria that only UV rays can provide. (I didn't just make that up, I read it in a magazine that made it up last month.)
Either that or I'll call T and have her dunk my Gorgeous Girl in the pool again and stay here and check the rentals online.
I mean really, my pup dog is awsome and I've moved 6 times with her so the "stay because the dog likes it" is a RETARDED logic because she couldn't sleep last night due to the heat and she'll be happy anywhere because she ROCKS like that.
What?? You KNOW this would be a lot more fun blog material. Move closer to a job I don't think I like, break in new roomies, wonder if I did the right thing, be closer to the havoc that has been my night life lately... and really, unless I go back to work at Cubeville (another plethra of blog material AND time to post it AND make bank), why would I stay in a house where my entire home life consists of wishing it was cool enough to do ANYTHING (laundry, budget, tweezing my eyebrows, crafts, dusting - none have been done in a month) while not talking to my roomies and hoping I don't have to wake up to them or their psycho boyfriends coming over at 2am.

Tangents. Can't help them. Love me anyway. And COMMENT please, especially if you have me on your blogroll Laurie, so I know you're here. My stat counter tells me how many stop by, not who you are. I need the love, my dog can't stand to sit with me these days!

Monday, July 17, 2006

Oh the H.E. double hockey sticks with it.

Call me crazy, but when you've been up for 8 hours and the bestest part of your day was watching a fuzzball sway in the wind in the parking garage, perhaps its time to find a desk to crawl under and try again tomorrow.

The really awful part of that statement is that my weekend ROCKED!!!! Friday night on the town, courtesy breakfast to stave off aftereffects, nap in my bed before having the house to myself all day to watch movies and be a dork with the dogs and sing aloud and cook food and overall hide from the blistering heat outside followed by a leasurely Sunday morning before heading out to The Valley for a poetry reading by the author, an old family friend, and spending the rest of the day being a girl with my sister at an outlet shopping mall and a comp'd dinner at her place of work.

Somehow I thought if I were busy for the weekend, the work ethic would bleed into my work week. But Oh Haaaiiiiillllllll NO. Today is worse than ever!! Not that the muggy heat and my house would have me being any kind of productive. Not that its a major problem the AC is on so high in here that my triple padded booby bra is still letting the headlights shine through and sitting here is freezing my fingertips blue. I've met deadlines, taken notes at a meeting, done stuff, had breakfast energy drinks AND lunch... but somehow all that is calling to me (besides blog crawling, but I did that last night without the restricted access) is the foot rest under my desk.
Maybe new nylons aren't uncomfortable enough to keep me from thinking this outfit is more comfy than my PJs??? When I wear any that is.
Perhaps its that I got barked at first thing today and my inner adolescent is finally ready for her rebelious phase??
Perhaps its just that there is a lull in the office and its the hum drum mentality in the vents that is killing my appetite to work??

Heres the real rub. I went out to Happy Hour/lets run up his cards on top shelf shots all over town with this friend of a guy I guess I was dating last year. He is a year younger than me, covered in tatoos, has two kids by two mamas (didn't know that until the night was half over ya'll, give me a little slack), and makes TRIPLE the money I do by sitting at home 4 days a week and 'managing' the operations of a construction site via paperwork.
I sat in a restaurant and watched waitresses pick up $20 tips every hour. EVERY HOUR ya'll. How much of that do you think they declair on thier taxes??? How much you wanna bet their homes are nicer than mine (if they have two brain cells about them)?? I know our bartender was remodelling a house in the Valley - in 4 months she doubled its value and isn't in debt at all. She is paying for it with cash out of OUR pockets!!! And here I am deciding if anorexia is a good enough diet to start an IRA for, because I can't afford to save and eat at the same time.
Yeah, I'm whining. I'm a double major college graduate from a real university with a real campus and a real library to visit and its been 5 and a half years since I graduated and started in the work force and I am making less than my sister was at 18 years old and 3 months out of High School!!!
And the roomies are pissing me the fuck off. Its not them as people. Its them as roomies. And THAT pisses me off more than anything because I either have to euthenize my dog and live in a hovel of an apartment somewhere or find new (and possibly much MUCH worse) roomies to learn to deal with and then slowly (or quickly) despise.

So here I am, trying NOT to read the classifieds for roomies OR new jobs because neither are that bad AT ALL in the great scheme of things but somehow my mood and self worth have plummeted severly since I started accepting my house as where I live and accepting that moving up the ladder in an corporation will involve some growing pains AND I'VE BEEN LAID which pisses me off even more that it hasn't put me in a SUPER upbeat mood because now I have a trail of men who keep waiting for me to call but all I want to do is sit alone in a hole.

Fuck PMS and all its little symptoms. I'm blaming it on that, and I don't care what time of the month it is - this way I'll assume this fit of insufficiency will pass eventually and the sense of glee and wonderment at how sweet my life is will feel like normalcy instead of a break in the rainstorm my little black cloud keeps gifting me.

Someone told me to get on the pill to help regulate my moods - anyone got any advice on that particular topic?

Tuesday, July 11, 2006

Miss Tangent if Your Nasty

Again, this entry started as a reply email. This is literally how it went down:
I got the first comment on the last post (which was a reply gone awry), found the attachment I didn't want to find and save and link for all ya'llz, and started typing away.
I PROMISE it started innocently... "here it is, I think anytime I see a video with those little Chinese or Japanese characters along the bottom its about the coolest thing I've ever seen" (or whatever actually came out to you, Curmudgeon)... and then this started falling out of my fingers:

I got a few emails from Mr. Techie today... a bit of gab from the suddenly silent that got me through the thick of the maylay today. Only an hour left and I am chewing gum at the front desk (a major personal no-no law I'm breaking) in order to preserve the enamel of my teeth from being ground away in the process of giving myself TMJ. He was very nice to reply to the email titled "REAL WORK THIS TIME" with lightning speed, but to have him tell me to call in the trouble was a little frustrating... I told him flat out that I'd called the tech support line and gotten through the 3 minutes of hold time FIVE TIMES before emailing him all the details of the account I needed worked on AND exactly what I needed pushed through before the chick left our office and somehow he thought "you should call or email this one in, sorry" was a FANTASTIC reply to the person he once had an hour and a half conversation with "even though [he] usually isn't a talker, but somehow [I] am just that much fun to chat with".
Ok, he's busy and thats a bit unfair, but I have offered at least a handful of times for him to tell me to stop bypassing normal protocol by emailing him directly and he never tells me to back off so instead I get my girls in the office standing over my desk telling me that my charms must be wearing off because didn't I have that guy I could call and he would help me out Like.That.Every.Time and I have to try to email him my problem while explaining to them that the phones have been busy for the last 15 consecutive minutes and if I could get ANYONE in the 18 cubes (5 of which, according to Mr. Tech, are vacant right now) of Techies to pick up my incoming call I would surely ask if I could be transfered to my favorite Mr. there and have him fix the problem while I razz him about not having time enough for me anymore.

Just another afternoon in the life of Miss Sassy!
If only the computer would quite jerkin me around I might consider it all my inability to take other peoples rants about their day and toss them over my shoulder, but when I've got to plug in the keyboard in the middle of looking up info for a caller and the mouse gets lodged in the slidy shelf at just the right place for me to happen to hit all the "exit this program" keys on the way back into my chair and the left button clicks to delete the 45 labels I just spent 1.5 hours getting together... and as the fumes from that mishap clear from the 65* air that someone thinks is comfortable office tempurature but I happen to find about as frigid as open air camping in February I get today, the roomie calls to let me know that the water in the house has been turned off and the guy won't be back to start fixing the problem I BROUGHT TO THE LANDLORD/HER DAD'S attention a month ago (after it had been leaking since New Years when He noticed/wanted to fix it, but it is in HER house, the one where if we put a plant on the kitchen table it is liable to end up back on our bed) until 8am which wouldn't be such a problem since I can do a day without a shower (or go to Target and buy flip flops before going to the gym anyway and using their facilities) but 8am is exactly in the middle of my 'get ready for work' time and there will be a plumber HOPING I didn't have to take a shit in my own toilet for 12 hours and ALL UP IN MY STANKY SPACE while I try to have a somewhat normal morning.

47 minutes left in the day and counting.
Thanks to Laurie, I am all in the Shank mood (being Tuesday and all)... and being me, its all one long tangential schmorgesborg.

This is actually how the thoughts link in my head.

Bow to me, bask in my glow, try to keep up, reread if necessary, but never doubt that sometimes when someone is looking you right in the face and listening to you ask 'whats the matter?", it is possible that before they look up at you they have a thought that is something like: "just because you were an hour and a half late to meet someone in my office and then called me from the lobby and chewed my ass about how no one was helping distract her from your tardiness ALL THE WAY UP THE ELEVATOR and then you wouldn't let me do anything remotely close to my job because you somehow still didn't have your shit together and I had to do your prep work while you stood ON MY HEAD and corrected all my misclicks and mistappitytaps instead of going back to my other desk and taking it over so there is no way I can get any work done on the warm side of the building OR enjoy seeing the surface I spent an hour cleaning up this morning", in which case you might want to stop with the PDA play after they offer the "just workin" answer and pretend like you care when you pop off with "no, thats not it! where is your smile? whats wrong, really??" because there are still some people with enough brain cells left and enough food in their guts to be able to have this entire internal monolouge in the time it takes you to snap your gum.

Still bowing? no??? get your ass to yoga and learn how to hold a stretch, geeeezz.
Jose and I have a date, and maybe I'll be taking a morning swim to get his stench off me before I kung fu the plumber for mirror space in the morning.

Monday, July 10, 2006

The Little Things

Riddle me this - even as a receptionist I don't get it - if you say you're out for a lunch break, then have to get a call an hour and a half later to remember to report that its a lunch meeting with collogues, and THEN decide when you are in the lobby of the building getting on the elevator that 2.5 hours after you leave the office is the PERFECT time to call and check in with your ETA. WTF!!!! After 3 calls to her cell and a call from the collogue letting us know she's on her way FROM THE OTHER SIDE OF THE PARKING LOT, the ONLY time she could manage to tell us in the 4 hours before this meeting to tell us she'd be out the entire middle of the day is in the 45 seconds before she walks through the door???!?!?!!?

I'm just pissy because the saintly Auntie that took my sister in during her time of need is being a big bloated alcoholic jerk. I called the house looking for Sissy and she took the opportunity to say "if you don't want to look at someones picture, take it down instead of flipping it over so it doens't hurt anyones feelings". Yeah, after you knew Sissy was living with you and "cleaned the room for her", somehow the picture of you in your bra and panties straddling a champagne bottle didn't make it off the only mirror in the room and out of politeness she feverishly added a number of her own pics to drown out your naked ass staring at her whenever she put makeup on and THREE MONTHS LATER I come to visit and don't need your milky thighs staring ME down as I put my makeup on so I preserve the pic and its obviously ONLY location available in the house (because HER bedroom mirrorSSSSS or HER private half bath mirror are WAY out of the question) instead of letting it fall into the oblivion that is Sissy's stuff or ::gasp:: put it in her room to be trampled by the cats or lost on HER terrain of terror... its all my fault that your fat ass needs "an inspiration picture" for you and your fiance in Sissy's bedroom and somehow my turning it over meant I hate you.
So your doc told you beer is eating your insides so that stomach pain you have is your juices leaking to the rest of your organs. So you have to switch to vodka even though you vowed to never drink hard alcohol again because you turn into a raging bitch and then pass out EVERY TIME but you HAVE to drink so you buy Ketel One on your just-lost-my-part-time-temp-job and am living off of haircuts budget. That does NOT mean you have the right to bitch me out for your nuddie pics being turned over in MY SISTERS BEDROOM on my lunch break!!!

Thank You MOT for inspiring that valve release =)

Also on the list of why the hell am I thinking about this stuff: I read an article this weekend about how "serial tanners" that we all thought were so full of themselves and HAD to spend 10 hours a week in the tanning beds are actually junkies. They replaced the bulbs in the beds so a group of these SoCallyFryBabes were only getting 10 minutes of UV rays and the other 10 minutes were just warming lights. They actually started withdrawl symptoms - twitching and all ya'll!!!!
I read this article as I untied the back of my bikini top and gave myself a wedgie to get as little of an untanned area as possible with the roomies mom and grandma walking about the kitchen (exactly 30 feet and a full wall of glass slider door away). It reminded my why I always feel so refreshed after a weekend of doing NADA, NUT'n, Zip, Zilch, bumpkis - its the happy neurotransmitter release that floods me after as little as 20 minutes twice a week (exactly what my weekend agenda ALWAYS includes!!).

Yeah, and... if I was in the office until midnight on Friday night, but I was on the phone for like 3 hours of it, and I got some work done but not 6 hours worth, but no one in the office has anything to do with any of the work was done, how exactly do I mark my timesheet for that?

Oh, and someone please get all Eternal Sunshine of a Spotless Mind on my ass and find that part of the brain that makes someone IRRESISTABLE to obsess about once they are totally and unequivicably unavailable. Its like a sickness to have my heart jump when the little "you have mail" envelope pops up to get Really disappointed to check it and see its not Mr. Techie but some actual work related crap.

Right. I should be working. Today is the "no matter what you get overtime this week" day and my morning meeting that should take no more than 45 minutes ran soooooo late that I had to call my higher up and say I WASN'T an hour late to work this morning, I was in a meeting since an hour BEFORE I usually get to work and STILL didn't manage to get my ONE 4 minute project done on time. So the way I see it, my afternoon of lollygagg'n isn't a total waste since I did get my butt in high gear after being held hostage all morning. And with all the work I probably won't add to a timecard, I'm just break'n even. Yeah, thats it. And maybe this week I'll get downstairs and into my comfy gym clothes and finish the projects that Somehow ::whistle:: :: kick my foot:: ::hands behind back:: don't get done in the 41.5 regulated hours per week. Hmmm...

I wish I could link faster, or I'd have some cool stuff. I can't really save anything to this computer or I would!! Maybe if you comment with a real address to reply to, I can forward you the link in the email that got this whole post started. Note worthy, I promise.

A tut alure ya'll, I've gotta another email to get excited about and then be disappointed that they want me to work about!

Sunday, July 09, 2006

Back in the Saddle

Its official.
No deny'n it.
Tried to talk myself out of it.
Worked a logical circle around it.

Alas, I'm a slut.

Well, or so in touch with my actual needs that I will take advantage of meeting them.

According to my friend Monty, Maslows Heirarchy of Needs includes sex amoung food and drink and shelter.

Its basic.
And I'm tapp'n into my most primal needs and meeting them with a flurry.

After a long depression linked to the mammilian/emotional brain, I have recovered refreshed and on the prowl with my reptilian/basic needs brain running the show.

It was easy really. I planted the seeds of inquisition about 6 weeks ago, I played phone tag, I refused to respond to his lame attempts at 11:30pm rendevus, and suddenly I found myself playing him like a pawn.
And I don't play chess.
Thats how easy he was.

I was working VERY late, chatting on the cell phone while pulling the shredable files from the cabinets and tossing them on the floor like a slob. Behavior I could NEVER pull off if the office were abuzz with people and chatter and activity.
I get a beep that another call is coming in.
I know its him.
I tell him I'll call him later.
2 hours later I wake him.
With only 10 minutes of back and forth, I have the file cabinet project done, my shoes back on, and a midnight date to Dennys to get me dinner.
S C O R E.
I never eat at dinners, and let me tell ya... there is something about OJ and french toast at midnight that will send you over cloud nine no matter WHO your sitting across from!

He holds my hand in the car on the way back to his place, offers me a glass of wine, I say I'm good, we make out in the hallway, he says this would be more comfortable in the bedroom, and 45 minutes later he gets up to get me a towel AND a bottle of water without being asked for either.
And he didn't just toss them at me. Like some assholes do. I got them handed to me as I basked in the glow that is an endorphin rush brought on by being smacked ever so expertly on the meat of the rump while getting the fingers involved in cum #3.

Do I tell the judgement commitee in my real life that some things AREN'T finished after college? Will they believe I wasn't drinking either time? Can they fathom that I'm not covering for anything, that I am more well adjusted today than at any time in the past year???

Well, I'm telling you.
The Ass is back in Sassy if you know what I mean.

I must admit, I am a little disappointed that after 6 months of committed gym rat-dom, I find my lower back a bit of achy after these escapades. Time to adjust the regime.
Keep going to yoga so I can hold my legs open? yes.
Continue to do crunches every trip so I can manipulate myself and him with graceful ease? yes.
Do more pushups so I can hold tighter to my position on the bed? yes.
Learn how to use that bar that you lay over and hold weights to your chest and do backward situps on? Going this afternoon.
Thank every one of my teachers for giving me the stamina, strength, and self esteem to land two Lamers who can't return phone calls on time but can be talked into buying my late night meals and letting me ride them until I'm totally tripley satisfied? I'm pulling out the cute stationary as I type.

On another topic, my tan lines are coming very nicely. Somehow this little halter top bikini is perfectly fitting over my nipple section so that I don't mind my roomies being home during my tanning time.
Compoundly, laying on my stomach totally topless - not just with the back untied, but with the whole top off and slipped under the pillow - and realizing that the roomies mom and grandma were in the house for the first time is not nearly as embarrassing as you'd think.

Also, the mild disappointment of finding out that one of your favorite flirt buddies is taken can be overcome in time to send a reply email containing the sentance "when you ever take my invitation to meet, just bring me a friend to play with while you and your g/f suck face =)". There is something fantastic about not knowing the people in real life. I don't have to be put off my his bad hair days or the way he shovels food or what a dork he really is (he works in tech support ya'll, I mean come ON)... but on the phone and via email he is a wonderful man in my life; always glad to talk to me, always ready to make me laugh, and willing to put in the effort to quell my workplace worries. He doesn't even get jealous when I talk to other Tech Support guys. So he had a girlfriend that can read his open IMs at his house and can't chat with me. He just crossed into the PERFECTLY unavailable guy for me and the teasing and taunting is about to exponentially explode. And I'll tell ya, I've been pretty brazen about throwing myself at him with the text messages to my email that were forwarded with my phone number on them, emails from the personal address, talk of meeting midstate for a weekend on the beach... I mean we all know I'm not a tease, but there is something devilishly fun about offering a chase to a guy 4 hours away =)=)

Its midafternoon on the last day of my weekend. I'm going to shower some heavy conditioner in my hair, get back in the bikini to solidify my tan lines, check my laundry, and maybe think about eating something so IF the gym crosses my mind for that back workout I'll be up for it. Or I'll have two beers for lunch and end the day catching up on Tivo.

Welcome to a closer representation of my most perfect life to date. Working my way up the ladder, social life blossoming, money sitch is healthy, no latent desires to emotionally self mutilate, family squared away, contented dog sleeping at my feet, room kinda clean but not neurotically so, and the rest of the day to do whatever the fuck I want because I am in control of whats happening to me and chose to have the free time commercials keep telling me I don't have.
Boo ya.

Monday, July 03, 2006

Break the Seal

For any annonomous blog readers who don't need all that "TMI", stop here. There will be gruesome details of a personal nature that certainly have no relevance to any company info you may be seeking out to incriminate me with, even though I am no longer talking about you anyway.

Alright, for the rest of you...
Turns out, after consulting my desk calendar, that I didn't quite hit the 6 month mark of celibacy. That would have been NEXT MONDAY.
Thank the heavens and all things naughty and carefree that Mr. Lamer turned desperate like me!!!
He has been off and on calling for a few weeks but we never connected. I called him Friday to see if he wanted to have a Happy Hour dinner with me and he declined with a promise to call the next day.
I thought of this promise as I stood in the shower Saturday afternoon with a razor in one hand and heat stroke threatening my ability to stand. I decided not to tempt fate or shaving in cold water, or the inability to maintain my vision while bending toward a tiled wall while covered in water and shaving cream. I had thoughts of Laurie HATING her waxer for not being available to facilitate her sex life and realized I trying to convince myself that my lack of drive to facilitate my own sex life was actually my being empowered - somehow I thought I deserved a shank anyway!)
He called at 7pm and asked if I had eaten dinner yet.
We met at a local sit down spot at 8:30pm. He drove to MY town to buy ME dinner. I was overwhelmed with glee that someone was putting forth effort and it wasn't ME!!!! Hahahahahaha, the power of the vajayjay!!!!
So he was quite during the meal, watching the numerous TVs and visably disarmed by the alcholic beverage he sucked down in true Navy boy style.
As we left, he asked if he could see my place, if it was ok if he followed me home.
KA-CHING ya'll!!!
I politely said 'sure, follow me out of the parking lot this way' and walked to my car.
Once inside, I vehimently cursed myself for having little faith in this mild mannered machismo man and did the run up the calf to see exactly how bad it was.
As I waited for the light to change, I texted everyone I know who is strapped to their cell phone to ask if it was poor one-nighter edicit to jump into the shower while he amused himself in my room... then remembered the time I KNEW the guy needed his women shaved within an inch of their life and came back ready for action to find his drinks had made him PASS OUT and thought "I warned Mr. Lamer, he can deal".

We are in my room, sans drinks. He comments on my MANY MANY many many many wall hangings and shelf stuffers before asking if we could watch a movie. I gave him my stack of DVDs and went to piss the 22oz beer I had with dinner (who forgets that bladders can't deal with beer AND has broccoli for lunch the first day in 6 months she has a guy in her bed??? Damn straight its Sassy!)
We started Moulin Rouge, got all comfy laying on the bed COMPLETELY SEPARATED.
I have my pillow, he is on the FAR SIDE of a queen bed with one leg off the matress on his stack of pillows.
No body HEAT contact people!!!
I was worried.
This is the guy that met me online, was hot as hell on the phone, clammed up on our first/coffee date, let me bring a 6pack to his apartment for our second meeting where 3 beers and 3 hours left him comotose and me walking bowlegged for 2 days, then over the next 3 months took me to 4 scary movies and I didn't get so much as a good night kiss out of any of those $30 evenings.
Was he backing out? Did he need a cuddle? Was he just needing someone to tell him he looked good with his muscles all veiny and bulging out of his AE tshirt?? Am I gonna have to wait until the next time he falls asleep and take that 4 minute window to molest him into giving me what we both know I need???
Well, he commented on his sleepiness, I turned off the movie, and we declaired "good night" to each other about 48 times in the next hour and a half... each time after various conversation topic changes, glances toward the other, body contact turned "what did you do for Father's Day?" (NOT ME), more and more undress, a conversation about why it had been so long since anyone had been in my bed that ended (by him) "wow. thats trauma. don't worry, He'll come back to you." with a very firm "come on, lets cuddle" to break the silence the INSTANT it was getting obnoxious... Yeah, it took about 4 minutes for our pressed half naked bodies to create enough body heat to require the fan to get OFF oscilate and get DIRECTLY ON US ON TOP SPEED. Then I rolled to my stomach, reached out to ask if his nipples were functional or just for decoration with a little flick to prove my point, and in the next 14 seconds he directed my roaming hand from his chest to inside his boxers to both of us being stripped to me riding him like the bucking bronco I remembered him to be.


A few phone calls, a dinner, a few hours of finding our comfort zone, and just like that I got mine THREE TIMES.
He didn't want the last one, but I told him I would be nice. He said he wouldn't last long, I said I didn't need him to =) Damn me and my knowledge, I got him to take my lead, let me tease the everloven vein popp'n breath out of him, let me shiver and quake all over, and THEN give him the three pumps he needed to seal the second deal of the morning.
I even cooked him breakfast in gratitude, and he didn't say a damn thing about my toaster oven being set to "frozen" and turning his whole wheat toast into frisbees.
Again he asked if we could watch TV (he's simple, but if you look at him from the neck down, you just don't give a shit anymore) and with almost no body contact and short menial conversations we mustered through Madagascar (its a cute movie, and the roomies were home, I don't want to hear it) before his need for a clean pair of chonies got the better of him.

I get off work at 3pm today and am only about an hour away from where I need to be at 7pm. I'm thinking, after all that effort, and that he inspired me to FINALLY trim the hedges and get back my camel toe, maybe I'll ring him and see if I can sneak in a little afternoon fun before my drive to the City. (Thanks for revv'n me up Monty!)
Lets hope he's ready... Saturday I was all loopy from the tanning and the swimming and the napping and was in my hang-out-in-almost-nothing-because-its-DAYM-hot-in-the-house clothes and NO makeup; today I am shaved up to the landing strip, glowing golden with bronzer and mascara highlighting all the right spots, and all hyped up on thoughts of cock =)=)
All Mighty help him keep his strength if he lets me in his sights this weekend.