Still Chafing A Bit And It Isn't Wet Underwear

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You may think me absolutely insane for not loving a "job" whereby I come in for eleven hours a day and am worshipped by many. The worshipping part I can handle. The eleven hours a day, I can handle. What I cannot handle, however, is the part where I sit at my desk and twiddle my thumbs.

I like to be busy. I like to be overloaded. I like to able to come early and stay late. And then still have too much work to do. That makes me the happiest. Maybe I am a workaholic at heart. Maybe I just like the bragging rights attached with such hours, but in any event, I NEED MORE WORK.

However, that small detail aside, I thought I would update you on the adoring masses.

Starbucks Boy visited again today. This time bringing his ADORABLE cocker spaniel puppy. I properly oohed and ahhed and even I informed him I really don't like dogs, but his is the exception. Once he left, Sketchy Guy I work with walks over to my desk and ask if "the cute dog trick" really works with girls. I said not paticularly. He informed me I was acting otherwise. I had carefully pondered QOS's much thought-out advice, so I simply stated that I would do pretty much anything for free Starbucks delivery. And if that mean cooing over dogs, sobeit.

This gave him much to think about.

Minorly Sketchy Guy I work with informed me he thought of me over his morning coffee this morning. While that isn't exactly necessary, it could have been much worse. Like "I thought about you while I showered this morning". (Yes. I have heard that before.)

Sketchy Guy invited me to invited me to a concert, offered to take me out to dinner, asked shoe buying advice AND offered to teach me to dance.

Minorly Sketchy Guy invited me to this huge picnic his family is throwing, which will have lots of fat men from the dealership waterskiing. Oh. Terrific. I want to go to a picnic where I will be seen with most of the people I work with, so they can all rehash how I look in a bikini. Not a pleasant subject for me. He was also quite affronted when I paid for my lunch. QUITE.

Until I can find some real work to do, I will continue to pit them against each other to see how far we can get this to escalate.

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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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