Slackers R Us

Before you know it, it has been two weeks (13 days) and no post.  To make up for it I'm sending 13 thoughts your way in no particular order:

1.  Glenda thinks she owns me.  Today she informed me that she was technically "My Direct Supervisor" and that my boss wasn't my real boss.  She's insane.

2.  I may have applied for grad school.  In English, my minor.  Because I need to figure out my life and anthropology isn't calling to me like it once did.  And a school not far from here has a laid back program.  And did I mention I need to figure my life out?

3.  Tommy Boy is a lost cause.  He's become the other half of an "item", I do believe.  Loser.

4.  Sometimes I feel like I am in an episode of The Office and I can't escape no matter how I try.  Except there's no Jim to flirt/laugh with.  Just one permanent Angela/Dwight/Michael hybrid who is ALWAYS there, making my life hellish with frightening perfection.

5.  I had a date on Saturday.  He was shorter than me and he tried to kiss me without invitation.  It was weird, turning my cheek like that.  Why are they all so awkward?  Why do I say yes to these things?  Why did betrayal dressed in a friend's clothing think I would hit it off with him?  Should I be offended by this?

6.  Heaven will have large vats of Cafe Rio creamy tomatillo dressing for swimming and such.  Of this I am sure.

7.  Things I will be doing against my will this weekend:  going to see Twilight.  I am a good friend.

8.  I love a good pedicure and believe this should be my reward for suffering through number seven.

9.  There is nothing like a favorite shirt.  The kind of shirt that you want everyone to see you in.  But because you feel delicate and lovely in said shirt, no one will see you in it.

10.  Unless you spill something on it.  Like a large vat of Cafe Rio creamy tomatillo dressing.  Then everyone you've ever known will show up.

11.  I'm still not entirely sure of the purpose of Facebook.  Isn't the point of graduating from high school and moving on in life never having to see those people EVER again?

12.  The baker's dozen is a funny notion.  Do you think that they really just add a pinch onto the total for that 13th bagel/roll/cookie?

13.  In case you were wondering, Tommy Boy's other half is falsely intelligent.  Stupid and shallow but pretends to be deep and enlightened.  She chafed me before this.  Now, I want to take her dark rimmed glasses (a costume) and pseudo intellectualism (or facade) and...I am not a violent person.  But I would try to think of something violent and tough to do to her and I would do it.  If it would mean Tommy Boy would notice me not in a "she's a violent psycho" kind of way.  Because

14.  I love him.  We've talked lately, even texted.  And I love him.  And he doesn't even know it.  Because he is male and blinded by looks and a nice, flat stomach.  

That is all.

Dear Middle Aged White Lady Celebrating Obama's Victory in Grant Park,

I'm glad Obama won too.  That is quite the milestone in American history.  But, I must confess, you have no rhythm.  Please don't dance.  It only makes you more white.  More tragically unhip.

Signed,

Tired of this Election

Do Not Let Me Eat Another Fun Size Piece of Candy

Because I can't seem to my control myself.  It is now officially your job.  And don't tell Jay at 24 Hour Fitness (because I most certainly will not be volunteering any stats--in part due to the fact that I lost count hours ago).

Tommy Boy wasn't at church today.  This was both good and bad.  Good because there is always a certain relief in my abdomen without the nervousness he gives me.  Bad because there was no eye candy to be had.

Must go get stomach pumped now.

Grant and Halloween

Grant is pretty and all.  But he needs to get over his divorce.  And that chip on his shoulder about Mormonism.  Yoda says:  Majorly screwed up in the head he is.  And thus a perfectly good Halloween evening of Papa Murphy's, a bag of fun size snickers, and a redbox was wasted listening to him talk about what an idiot he feels like for getting involved with such a witch (but she ain't Glenda's daughter everybody).  And I totally felt bad for him....for the first fifteen minutes.  And then I got angry at him.  Because he was a pig!  And I knew better.

Oktober-Beer-Fest/Slut Costume Parade was the theme of this party.  Why I really think he called me:  he needed a designated driver.  I had to listen about what prudes (the least offensive of the name calling) Mormon girls are and he can't believe he fell for one who was so frigid.  My theme for the night:  Mercy help me, how did I get involved in this?  

Apparently, after his divorce (and I'm wondering how long after his divorce because it was just six months ago) nobody would give him a chance (poor baby...maybe because of that "I'm a raving lunatic" flag he's flying...but it could just be me?) and he became Mr. Damaged Goods rather than the Mr. Desirable he is used to being.  And then a coworker set him up with a "hot" nonmember and it all is downhill from there.

One down.  Three more holidays to go.  I think I'm coming down with a long and highly contagious case of mono this holiday season.