My New Joy: Day 2

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Today I started off strong. I had an all-white outfit and was ready to kick some butt.

You have to understand the signifigance behind all-white outfits. They are classy and get you attention without being slutty. They make you stand out without being blatent. Besides, it just makes you look so feminine and pretty.

The minute I pass through the gates of work, my grande carmel machiatto flips itself in it's scalding entirity into my lap. Pain. Agony.

I tried to mop the spot. I thought about trying to swallow my pride and maybe I could mop it off and be ok. WHO WAS I KIDDING?! I get out of my car and I see that half my leg it swallowed up in a giant coffee stain. I run home, quickly grab a white linen skirt, find some hose (since I now am exposing leg) iron the frickin' skirt and run back to work. Only twenty minutes late.

The. minute. I. step. out. of. my. car. it. begins. pouring.

I sit at my desk. Late, slightly soaked and generally irritated at the fact it seems I cannot get anything right. No matter how hard I try. As you can imagine, the fact that I had a white shirt, skirt and sweater on did not go uncommented. Oh. No. There were those commenting non-chalantly, those who tried to be kind and then those that were just blatent.

But, I sucked it up and bit the bullet. I "charmed" my way into the wiles of the younger, albiet more perverted, co-workers and was finially able to get somewhere. I was finially able to get answers to my questions, I followed people around and took copious amounts of notes, I pretty much got my way. And lots of promises to help me out as much as possible. While this is not my preferred mode of operation, it works for now, until I see fit to show them all up and kick their butts.

Now that's what I call teamwork.

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This odd narrative is my life. I ended up in Pittsburgh, of all places--from the beach. I have no hobbies, other than cooking excessively and eating microwave popcorn. I enjoy shopping, the Food network, hiding the remote so the Food network cannot be turned off, find ethnic food stores and restaurants and reading voraciously. My life is decidedly pedestrian.

I worked in the car business where I was required to be ruthless and soul-less wench, which is when I started this project. Since then, I've kept it up because secretly, I've always wanted to join the military. Every male in my mother's family has joined and I quietly entertain thoughts of joining. I haven't yet and don't know if I ever will, but sending the troops cookies keeps me sane. it makes me think I still have a shred of human kindness left in my withering soul. it's a small way for me to salute the men and women who are brave enough to fight for freedom. And makes me feel like I'm contributing toward troop morale--even if I'm not. So if you want to help, send me addresses of troops you know stationed overseas. you may also contribute toward the cost of chocolate chips, but don't feel obligated, that link is here only by request.

the past


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