Work is boring me to death. You know what, I’d rather start off on a positive note. Thank God for this wonderful day! That’s better. Now back to the work situation. So far, the highlight of my work day has been a quick visit from one of my ho-workers. Yes, ho-worker is correct. This type of co-worker has been known to take on the actions and rationality of, “Why get a degree or work hard when you can sleep your way to the top?” Then once they get the power job and the big checks start rollin’ in, they want to get all professional on us. “Hey, you know I’m in grad school now.” Grad school? Why not just turn a few more tricks? I know this may come off a bit judgmental and envious, but I’m just stating the facts. In actuality, I feel sorry for the poor girl. She’ll always be known as the girl who slept with her boss and helped ruin his marriage. No matter how smart she actually is, or how hard she performs her job (outside of the bedroom), somewhere in the back of my mind I’ll always think, “I wonder if she’s still passing out blow-jobs?”
After hating her, then feeling sorry for her, and then forgetting about her altogether, my mind went wandering to the a part of the day that I’m always overzealous for—lunch. For me, lunch is a special time when I can effectively execute my daily to-do list:
- take a nap
After this is done, what more would I possibly need to do? Oh yeah, brush my teeth. Lately I’ve realized that myself and another female co-worker are the only two who stroll into the ladies restroom after lunch to give our mouths a good scrub down. What’s up with that? Does everybody else just walk around with chunks of burger trapped in their molars? Ewww!!! That almost made me as sick as the Astroglide did yesterday. Speaking of lubricants, wouldn’t it be fabulous if there were a gay, male version of Rachel Ray. She’s just such a bore to me, and I have in mind a few zesty fellas that could definitely spice up a cooking show.
Hope I wasn’t too random today. I’m trying to keep my blog updated daily, so expect the aimless stories to continue.
P.S. Am I sick and twisted for wanting to buy my 9-month old nephew a little devil costume so he can be the “Hell Date” midget this Halloween?