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...he's just pretty.
I've got a great idea--how about I just give you all my stories and ya'll write them for me? I can give you cookies too. I'd give you a back rub with it, but I am to massage as Elaine Benes was to dance. Painful, erratic and you're praying for death before it's over. Mr. Roxy only tolerates them because I always finish up with a happy ending...I had to stop giving massages at work...no, no, kidding, I'm a kidder! Unless you want the happy ending...?
It's getting colder every day here in my little corner of heaven, and it makes me want to sleep all the time. I'm getting up at the asscrack of dawn, to get to work at nine o'clock--in the AM! What the hell kind of uncivilized time is that? I should still be stark naked and lounging in a bubble filled tub at that time of day.
Who said spoiled bitch? You in the back...
My job has it's highs and lows lately. It was interesting today--once I got over the shock of being awake so early. Don't you hate cashiering? I hate cashiering. So many strange people staring at me, wanting things from me, scaring me...especially the ones who want to be your oldest and dearest friend in the few minutes we're forced to interact. Can't I just do my job efficiently and speedily, without us promising to always write, and putting each other in our wills? What is it with Americans? Or does this weird bogus best friend forever thing happen in other countries too? It *still* freaks me when some total stranger calls me by my name. Stop that--it's creepy as hell.
Totally OT, but every once in a while I catch Dark Angel repeats on the SCiFi channel, and I was totally boggled that the reason I was watching wasn't Michael Weatherly but Jensen Ackles. A baby, tiny, girly, itty-bitty slip of a Jensen. My word, he's turned into such a very very very handsome man. Isn't it odd how someone can sneak up on you and steal your heart like that? I really thought he was a waste of meat on SV, and yet now, I'd like to shampoo his hair. Which is a delicate euphemism for 'fuck him till the neighbors call the cops.' I would say 'fuck him until we're limp and wet' but I am a woman of refinement, after all. It would be wrong to say I'd go down like the Titanic given half the chance....
Um...what was the point of all of this?
I've got a great idea--how about I just give you all my stories and ya'll write them for me? I can give you cookies too. I'd give you a back rub with it, but I am to massage as Elaine Benes was to dance. Painful, erratic and you're praying for death before it's over. Mr. Roxy only tolerates them because I always finish up with a happy ending...I had to stop giving massages at work...no, no, kidding, I'm a kidder! Unless you want the happy ending...?
It's getting colder every day here in my little corner of heaven, and it makes me want to sleep all the time. I'm getting up at the asscrack of dawn, to get to work at nine o'clock--in the AM! What the hell kind of uncivilized time is that? I should still be stark naked and lounging in a bubble filled tub at that time of day.
Who said spoiled bitch? You in the back...
My job has it's highs and lows lately. It was interesting today--once I got over the shock of being awake so early. Don't you hate cashiering? I hate cashiering. So many strange people staring at me, wanting things from me, scaring me...especially the ones who want to be your oldest and dearest friend in the few minutes we're forced to interact. Can't I just do my job efficiently and speedily, without us promising to always write, and putting each other in our wills? What is it with Americans? Or does this weird bogus best friend forever thing happen in other countries too? It *still* freaks me when some total stranger calls me by my name. Stop that--it's creepy as hell.
Totally OT, but every once in a while I catch Dark Angel repeats on the SCiFi channel, and I was totally boggled that the reason I was watching wasn't Michael Weatherly but Jensen Ackles. A baby, tiny, girly, itty-bitty slip of a Jensen. My word, he's turned into such a very very very handsome man. Isn't it odd how someone can sneak up on you and steal your heart like that? I really thought he was a waste of meat on SV, and yet now, I'd like to shampoo his hair. Which is a delicate euphemism for 'fuck him till the neighbors call the cops.' I would say 'fuck him until we're limp and wet' but I am a woman of refinement, after all. It would be wrong to say I'd go down like the Titanic given half the chance....
Um...what was the point of all of this?