I would pay The Barenaked Ladies to stop singing that wretched song.
Posted by Taylor on July 14, 2005 @ 1:56 pmThere are certain things that I feel should be kept sacred. Some things just aren't meant to be laid out for anybody with access to Google to see. There was actually even a recent article about this notion.
Having said that, I'm now going to tell you that my naughty parts are itchy. I performed my monthly grooming two days ago and now my naughty parts are itchy. I always just tough it out, but I wonder if there is anything that could be done to alleviate the itch.
I just asked Bitsy about it (yes, we can talk about my itchy nether region out loud at work) and she said that I should be using aloe directly after. She also said that I might want to go home and apply an oatmeal and water mixture. The only oatmeal I have at home, though, is cinnamon & raisin. I don't know if that's the same thing.
A part of me thinks it's a little sad that I'm 23 years old and I have to learn about shaving from my boss. Another part of me thinks that my father might have been a little put off had I asked him how to groom my man bits.
I spent exactly 33 minutes on hold before Karen answered my call (My call was, you see, important to them, so I remained on the line. Also, I'd rather spend 33 minutes of my lunch hour on the phone than spend 33 minutes of my out-of-work time on the phone).
Now, while I was on hold I was listening to something that could only have been a Jamaican steel drum band performing Kenny G performing Celine Dion. The company is clearly trying to promote it's online service, though, because every once and a while a guy or a girl would interrupt the "music" to tell me about how great their online services are. They didn't just say, "Hey, did you know about our online services?� though. These recordings did everything but say "Hang up! Hang up now! You're wasting your time waiting on a line that will only eventually connect you with an incompetent ass monkey that will never, in one thousand lifetimes, be able to promptly or adequately answer your question! Leave now before it's too laaaaaaaaaaate!"
The ironic part, though, was that I was only on the phone trying to get in touch with these people because my account information online was incorrect.
Also, Karen was totally an incompetent ass monkey. Thanks for a whole lotta nothin' Karen!
Genuinely hideous. I hated myself on the outside. I would dream of ways to change how I looked. I felt physical pain in my stomach every time I looked at myself in the mirror.
Having a hot boyfriend has fixed that.
Now I can say with all sincerity that, when I want to, I can look pretty damn cute.
That fact alone is what makes me think that, on some subconscious level, I decided to look like crap today.
Totally unrelated bit that I didn't even plan on writing: Love is a Battlefield just came on the radio and I couldn't be any more pleased than I am right now! I'm all about Pat Benatar right now and I love every second of it. God give me the strength to not get up and do my Love is a Battlefield dance right here in the office.
to locate some of my kitchen stuff that I'd like to bring with me back to San Francisco and, while I was exploring, I found six broken irons. Six broken irons.
There is a place where irons go when they die and that place, apparently, is my attic.
Posted by Taylor on July 12, 2005 @ 6:59 pmWar of the Worlds was, for me, terrifying. I don't know if it was the whole Aliens Conquering the World thing or the fact that I couldn't help but find Tom Cruise exceptionally attractive, but something did not sit well with me. Actually, it was definitely the bit about the aliens. Tom Cruise can be a creepy, domineering nutbag and still be hot. I'm okay with that.
Obviously, though, the aliens are going to get me. Maybe they didn't last night, but that's only because we didn't have any lighting last night. There are, however, thunderstorms expected for the next week and I fully expect to be abducted (again) soon.Perhaps I would have gotten a better night's sleep had I used the SLEEPTRACKER Watch. I learned about this dubious little gizmo yesterday morning from my friendly morning news anchors. The watch allegedly tracks your movement throughout the night and then, when it senses you're at the perfect moment to wake up (based on movement), it sounds the alarm. Hello? With my luck, I'd fart in the middle of the night and that damn alarm would go off.
This morning I learned about the Anti-Jetlag Diet. They talked it up as if it was some simple diet that would completely eradicate jetlag and, naturally, I thought that this might be a good idea for my move back to San Francisco (can I just say here that me + jetlag = ugly? The last trip I took out to see J I never really managed to get on West Coast time, which, unfortunately, resulted in a lot of passing out and drooling down his back while we were lying on the couch watching movies). Upon further inspection of this diet, I learned that it requires more than just, say, eating nothing but cucumbers for two days prior to the trip. It requires "Feast Days" and "Fast Days" and, while I could definitely get behind a day of feasting, I have little to no interest in fasting.
Lastly, and not at all related, I'd like to thank my dear friend Andy for supplying me with my new mantra: People are like slinkies: Not very useful, but still a lot of fun when they fall down the stairs.
I'm having t-shirts made up as we speak, people.
I'm listening to Tori Amos, and Margie Gal will not be in the office today. I'm almost tempted to say things are going well.
I did have to endure a "heart-to-heart" with The Deaf Dock Man this morning. He's lonely. He's ugly. His friends don't like him. He's going to die alone. (These are all his words, not mine) Does anyone know how to say "You make me want to drink battery acid" in sign language?
And now, because I've said something negative, I will follow up with something positive.
Two reasons why I love my friend Angel:
1. While sitting at the bar in our little Mexican joint last night, she picked up a cup containing flowers that couldn't have been any less than six inches tall and said, "Hey, it's like a shot glass!"
2. While playing Trivial Pursuit 90's Edition (also at the bar), she read me some question about the U.S.S.R. Government, flipped over the card to find the answer, saw Mikhail Gorbachev, and couldn't figure out what a ballet dancer had to do with the Communist party.
In a related story, I hear Mikhail Gorbachev can do a mean pas de chat.