That is why I am posting twice in, like, four hours.
Someone give me a good book to read.
Or a title of one.
Whatever it takes.
I feel like my brain is going to liquefy and leak out my nose at any moment.
I heart my job.
A couple of things, while we're at it.
Want.
As they say on ICanHasCheezburger.
What? You don't know what ICanHasCheezburger is?
You suck.
Click on the link and discover greatness.
As they say on ICanHasCheezburger.
What? You don't know what ICanHasCheezburger is?
You suck.
Click on the link and discover greatness.
Will someone please explain to me why I have 6 different kinds of chapstick in my purse?
SIX.
I've only had it since last Thursday.
I think I need an intervention.
I'm sick of painting my nails black and gray, but I don't know what other colors to paint them.
It's not even close to Spring yet, so I can't really do fun happy colors like pink or blue. Lest the InStyle monarchs swoop down and carry me off to the place where they send offenders who also carry fanny packs and do that whole "dark underneath, bleached on top" hairstyle. Note to those people: it does not make your look pretty. It makes you look like a skunk. A skunk who carries a little nylon pouch around it's waist.
I am not talented enough to do a french manicure.
Nor am I classy/sophisticated enough for red.
Don't even say that I should leave them unpolished, because that's just cruel and wrong.
I kind of miss having acrylics, because you didn't have to paint them.
But I don't miss them that much because they destroyed my nails for almost a year and they are muy expensivo.
Someone sent the office a huge tiered arrangement of Ferrero Rocher truffles. And wouldn't you know, it was still sitting in the same spot when I walked in last night.
So I had to be locked in an office alone, for an entire eight hours, with a dozen Ferrero Rocher hazelnut chocolate truffles. Unable to leave.
Yeah, that was fun and I don't hate myself at all. That's a lie.
Also, will someone please tell me why I am constantly having conversations like this:
M: So...how much do you love me?
B: Yes, you can come over and do laundry.
SIX.
I've only had it since last Thursday.
I think I need an intervention.
I'm sick of painting my nails black and gray, but I don't know what other colors to paint them.
It's not even close to Spring yet, so I can't really do fun happy colors like pink or blue. Lest the InStyle monarchs swoop down and carry me off to the place where they send offenders who also carry fanny packs and do that whole "dark underneath, bleached on top" hairstyle. Note to those people: it does not make your look pretty. It makes you look like a skunk. A skunk who carries a little nylon pouch around it's waist.
I am not talented enough to do a french manicure.
Nor am I classy/sophisticated enough for red.
Don't even say that I should leave them unpolished, because that's just cruel and wrong.
I kind of miss having acrylics, because you didn't have to paint them.
But I don't miss them that much because they destroyed my nails for almost a year and they are muy expensivo.
Someone sent the office a huge tiered arrangement of Ferrero Rocher truffles. And wouldn't you know, it was still sitting in the same spot when I walked in last night.
So I had to be locked in an office alone, for an entire eight hours, with a dozen Ferrero Rocher hazelnut chocolate truffles. Unable to leave.
Yeah, that was fun and I don't hate myself at all. That's a lie.
Also, will someone please tell me why I am constantly having conversations like this:
M: So...how much do you love me?
B: Yes, you can come over and do laundry.
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