Someone just told a dick joke.
So, how is everyone? Don't answer. I don't actually care. Don't you wish you could say that to the coworker who actually tells you how their weekend was?
Speaking of coworkers, the woman who sits next to me is great. I love sitting next to her. One of the things I like is that she's quiet and another is that she's so not basic. She runs this super-cool local music magazine, and she has perfect winged eyeliner every day, and she's intimidating because she's not all smiley "Hiii!" girl, thank god.
And that is why when she went out of town, we Basic Bitched her desk. I wrote to everyone I could think of to ask if they had pink, girly things we could put on her desk in place of the all black and gray things she had on there. Someone brought a teddy bear in a shadow box. That's how committed we got.
Here's my favorite juxtaposition: her regularly scheduled coffee cup against the pink-and-polka-dotted "Yay!" cup. Oh my god, that there is a "Yay!" cup anywhere in the world makes me crabby.
My boss donated this nice hot pink picture frame--she can have it for keeps!!--and three of us at work have decided to reenact the photo for her, so she can replace this pose with the three of us doing this pose. I even found someone at work who owns magnetic refridge magnets made of--
Magnetic refridge magnets. God I hate myself.
--those magnets all kids have. The letter magnets. I asked one woman who has, like, a three-year-old, and when she told me they don't have those, I told her I was calling Child Protective Services.
No one at work likes me.
Anyway, my goal is to get those letters and spell out Fuck Alex or something with them, for that special touch. And needless to say, I am the woman in this pose, above. And I had a black wig for ages, in the drawer, here, and now that I need it I can't find it.
Fuck.
Yay! That describes those two coffee cups up there, too. Fuck. Yay!
Speaking of my mood swings, do you know what makes me extraordinarily mad? I mean, out of proportion mad. When I start laundry, and it swirls around a couple times, then it makes the door open and the dryer stops. Oh, that makes me so fucking furious. I always stomp over there and slam the door shut. I'll show that dryer.
So you have an out-of-proportion rage about anything? Like, if someone brings 11 items to the 10 items or fewer line. Or what about in the car? Why do people get so berserk in the car?
I have a ridiculous left turn right before I get to work. There's no light, and it's a really busy road and there should be a light. Sometimes you're sitting there for two or three minutes before you can turn. I get rage-y when someone is crawling just enough so that I can't turn, and behind them is a shit-ton of traffic, so I know I have eleventy more minutes to wait thanks to their crawly asses.
Crawly fucks.
I'm getting all kinds of birthday presents, and if you sent one and haven't heard from me, it means there was no little card in the box. Tell me, and I will thank you properly. My mother's friend, Not Gwen, sent me six pair of cute reading glasses. Am beside self.
Ned bought me hanging plants. I put these same kinds of plants in my yard every year, and they never ever ever ever have a tag saying what they are, but they're this blooming succulent that works perfectly right there. I never have to water them--the rain here is enough--and they last May through October, except I never got them in May and I was bemoaning that and now boom. M'plants.
Yay! Fuck.
Tonight I have one of my old movies at the movie theater. In fact, there's a movie there every night this week, but I did not go last night because it was Rope and I just saw Rope last year. I have so many suggestions for that theater, like Towering Inferno and also two hours of old Warner Bros. cartoons. Wouldn't you so go to two hours of, like, Barber of Seville and the one where Marc Anthony the big dog finds that tiny kitten and he thinks his human mom made kitten cookies? Remember that one? I love that one.
Oh my god, I FOUND IT! Yay!
Fuck.
XO,
Jooooon
