dear dave,
it’s not the same without you.
‘mond.
THE END IS APPROACHING! MY BOSS IS WEARING JEANS! SAVE YOUR SOULS WHILE YOU STILL CAN!
i keep thinking it’s friday today. then i remember it’s only thursday and i get sad. i sure feels like a friday, though.
as previously promised (i think i promised. if i didn’t, i fully intended to), here is a picture of my new desk. don’t mind the grey blobs. one is me, the other are my boss and someone in his office. i look gross today and didn’t want to inflict that on anyone.
things to note about my corner: the new, hated window into my boss’s office, the glare from the window i sit beside, the bigass drawers, & all that lovely desk space. you can almost see my toy collection on the window sill, too.
i love my desk. it almost makes coming to work worth it.
i redeemed myself today. not only was i up out of bed and in the shower by 5:30, i’ve done something half-way decent with my hair and gave the-cute-little-philipino-lady-from-downstairs a ride to church this morning.
she was just at the front door as i was coming out of my suite. i immediately said “i can give you a ride this morning!” her name is hovita. she’s staying wth her daughter downstairs. she just spent a week in winnipeg between coming here and being home in the phillipines (where she offered to let me stay if i’m ever there — “i have my own place!”). she’ll be going to croatia soon on a pilgrimage. i have mentioned before that she goes to church every day at 7am, right?
i hadn’t realized how guilty i’d felt for not being able to give her a ride yesterday, but doing so today made me feel a lot better. phew. i’m not going to hell now!
it’s time! it’s time! it’s time for the thursday morning mpeg!!
“Where in the World is Carmen San Diego?” by Rockapella
“It Had to Be You” by Harry Connick Jr.
this week i have two for you. the first is small and cute and reminds me of my youth. the second is a classic which totally fit my melancholy mood last night. what are you waiting for? download them already!
holy fuck. it’s three o’clock already?
my day has consisted of: fighting to get out of bed, near depression upon witnessing the wreckage i call my hair, guilt for not being able to give the cute-little-philipino-lady-from-downstairs a ride to church, layout tweaking, layout tweaking, lunch at the grand buffet, layout tweaking, layout tweaking, email, email, & a smattering of real work. now, it’s time to go do my afternoon jog on The Machine. then it will be time to go home.
my life is too exciting for words.
sorry… i’ve totally forgotten to write an entry today. don’t tell jena, but i’ve been busy working on a new layout for her.
don’t worry, i’m not working today. no fear of productivity today, i tell you! instead, i’m playing with some layouts. that’s what i do at work when i’m not working, don’t you know?
talk amongst yourselves, i’m playing with pretty colours.
i woke up fine this morning, but the longer i’m awake the crankier i seem to become. it’s only 9am. i just can’t wait to see what kind of raging psychopathic bitch i am by four.
i watched crouching tiger, hidden dragon last night. i’m kicking myself that i didn’t go see it in the theatre, on a big screen. it’s all been said before, but it really is a breathtaking film. it makes me wonder about those people who complained about all the flying. can’t you suspend your disbelief long enough to get swept up in the story? the irony is that the same people who bitched about the impossibility of the fight scenes were probably the the exact same people who watch westerns and think they’re accurate representations of the “wild” west or sci-fi flicks and think the aliens are so realistic. morons.
i want to be just like shu lien when i grow up, beautiful and strong. complete with the mad sword skills.
you know you’re bored at work when you voluntarily go into the fitness room and jog for ten minutes just to pass the time.
i’ve worked all day. all day! i even started working (real work, not just showing up at work) four minutes early. four minutes! i did stop for exactly thirty minutes to eat my lunch and read a chapter of my book. i’ve also made three bathroom pitstops of no more than five minutes each. the result of all this industry? i have three empty in-trays and 75 minutes to kill until i can go home.
remind me not to be so fucking productive tomorrow, okay?
first: happy birthday, goddess!
second: team billy hq is looking damn fine.
third: bubbles are good. lillian rocks.
i don’t know why i’m sitting here in pain and misery with cramps when i have a bottle full of tylenol in my bag. it would take thirty-three seconds to get some caplets, swallow them and start the countdown to relief. but, no… i’d rather suffer. stupid uterus.
screw mickey rourke. i want to marry kevin smith.
i want a mickey rourke.
someone to look at me with those burning eyes. eyes which already know all the answers to the questions which he will ask. questions which will lead me, pull me, to the places i fear to go. he will say “do it for me” and i will have no choice but to comply.
he will own my body when he tells me how beautiful i am to him even as i know it’s not true. i will give myself to him because he knows everything about me which i strive to hide from everyone, especially myself.
he will touch me once and my skin will burn for days, emanating from that small spot, crawling along my body until i am engulfed in flame — thirsty, unquenchable flame — dampened only by his skin against mine again. and again. and again.
i want a mickey rourke.
i want to be swallowed whole by his power over me. i want to be both completely weak and infinitely powerful when i’m in his embrace. he will make me his slave and in turn i will master his broken heart.
i want a mickey rourke.
home.
full… *pats tummy*
busy!
tired.