Tuesday, October 9, 2007

Because it is easier this way

  • I am working dual roles through the end of the year. Stress level, high. Sanity, gone. Chocolate consumption, skyrocketed. Compensation, pittance.
  • I had a sinus infection for two weeks and during that time proceeded to scratch the living heck out of my right eye. I would be a great candidate for an eyebrow lift even at the ripe age of 29, so my already-saggy eyelid is now a more saggy. I'm serious. There is no more elasticity in the skin on my eyelid. I now have this... lump.... of skin on the inner corner of my eye, and it's driving me batshit.
  • I had no date on Saturday to a company event, going stag, and ended up playing darts with someone late at night in a dive bar in the 'hood. I don't know whether I was more amused by how un-gangsta I am, or the wide-load lady wearing a bright red shirt and very obviously showing her purple undies which were tugged up her back.

Friday, October 5, 2007

A good Huck

She and I were sitting there, waiting for T-Shirt to show. I invited my coworker to lunch after raving how fabulous T-Shirt was, but after a few minutes I became a little antsy and decided we should go ahead and order sans company.
Our waiter, this rather large guy in his early twenties, wearing a bright yellow shirt and having the social skills of a teenage boy whose life revolves around porn and video games, kept hovering around to see if the third member of the party arrived.
"How's the food? Is everything good? Do you want dessert?"
Seriously dude, leave me the hell alone because I'm one crabby crazy PMSing bitch, likely to shoot flames out of my mouth and no, not fumes from halitosis, real flames because I'm that pissed off about a work situation.
Lunch was finally consumed and I joked T-Shirt stood us up, and we left to return to work, laughing having realised the waiter's name was Huck, and proceeded to joke about the name Huck and who would name their child that, and if he were a superhero he should be Husky Huck or for those with slight verbal dyslexia, Hucky Husk.
And when I arrived back in my office I called T-Shirt, demanding to know why wasn't she at O'Charley's, home of orgasmic bread rolls?
I was there, was the response. I waited for you in the car [something-something about sumptuous breasts].
I was there too, my response. I was sitting right by the front door!
You know, it would have helped if I recalled that she originally suggested O'Charley's, and I pooh-poohed it, suggesting Mexican instead. And it would have helped if I didn't immediately vanquish the thought of said Mexican in my head, and tell my coworker we were meeting T-Shirt at O'Charley's.
But hey... at least T-Shirt got a quickie out of it. I just had a Huck.

Tuesday, October 2, 2007

When you walk

It came from a mutual acquaintance basically an announcement he was moving on with his life, going overseas, and pursuing dreams.

Even though two months have passed, it was only two weeks ago I saw him for the first time, three times in four days.

The first two times I saw the back of his head, him walking away quickly, knowing I was present. The third time we actually passed in the hall, our eyes connecting as he lifted his hand and said 'hi', while I kind of nodded a 'hi' back and kept walking.

And even though it was small, insignificant hanging-out-relationship in the grand scope of life, still,... no longer will there be the caution of taking different routes to avoid him, looking for his car in the parking lot, or running into him at work.

And I'm sad he's leaving. I miss his friendship. 

Saturday, September 29, 2007

Persistence... and irritants.

You can barely see my eyes because they are so utterly PUFFED UP from this massive sinus infection I am currently recovering from. However, I am not so utterly stupid or clueless when it comes to matters like the following. Like, take this strange pervy guy, who sends me a message every time I am online, probably has no social skills, and I imagine likes to jerk off in front of his webcam.

August 16
bluezeus7: was testing out cam
eileen: were you talking about a webcam?
bluezeus7: yes mine
bluezeus7: is it ok to try it out?
eileen: i can't see you
eileen: doesn't bother me

And just now, the same thing.

September 29
bluezeus7: was tryin cam out
eileen: you were months ago too
bluezeus7: what happened
eileen: you were trying your cam
bluezeus7: oh was it ok?
eileen: i have no clue, i don't like those things and don't watch them
bluezeus7: need you to help me test now
eileen: it doesn't work on my computer, sorry
bluezeus7: yes it does , its easy
eileen: no, it doesn't. I don't chat on Yahoo, I chat on a program called Trillian, which doesn't allow cam viewing access.
eileen: besides, i kind of think it's creepy that all the time you want someone to watch you on cam
bluezeus7: oh now its creepy, and now u dont look at em?
bluezeus7: change your name to The Retardian on Trillian
eileen: wtf? at least i'm not trying to pimp myself out on a webcam
bluezeus7: you can do better than that

And I can do better than that. I can help him. Horny wo/men of world, check out Mr Blue. He'd love to display himself on his webcam if you're willing...

Sunday, September 23, 2007

Another use for solitaire

I was driving, trying to control my cup of coffee, answer my mobile, and navigate the interstate in peak-hour traffic. The phone flashed with Carrie's name, and I answered to have Carrie laughing, wanting to tell me a story of her morning where her daughter Kate was very quiet, the quiet where you automatically assume a toddler is smearing feces on the wall in portraits of fairies, and sigh a big sigh when they are just tearing into a box of sugary cereal and have it spread all over the kitchen floor.
"All of a sudden Kate came into the bathroom and said, 'Mommy, hands! Hands!'  I smelled them it wasn't any sort of body lotion, and knew she hadn't touched Jerms' cologne or anything like that. You can only guess what she got into."
I cackled. "Does it start with Kentucky and end with Jelly?"
"Yes! She got into our drawer and found the KY, and said 'Kate, are your hands warm?' and she said 'Hands warm! Hands hot, Mommy'".
"You use the warming KY, Carrie? Perhaps I'm out of the sexual loop, but that stuff wasn't around when I was having regular sex."
"Well, you know, ever since having Kate things have been a little different in that part of my body."
And somehow, I don't recall how, but we were discussing the usage of KY and those special drawers that women have, where the toys are located and so are special lotions. Then this was the kicker. Carrie continued, "Ours has books in it, and you know, hand-held solitaire games."
I nearly swung into the car in the lane to my left as I laughed. "I've never heard a vibrator called that as a joke name."
"No! It's not a vibrator. We actually have hand-held solitaire games in our drawer..."

Thursday, September 20, 2007


There's a birthday gift for a certain someone that has been sitting in the front seat of my car. She knows who she is. She is not forgotten. It is just that I am too stupid to write down her address, take her gift to the post office, and mail her package.
I think I'm getting more dyslexic as I get older. I just wrote the previous sentence and wrote the word mail as male, maile, then mail. Then I realised I wrote the subject as Ramdonness instead of Randomness.
My work laptop sucks. I have no wireless here at home and well, I've been blogging from the Frank, the work laptop, from home lately, just due to the INSANE amount of work I have been doing from home every single evening and needing to connect to my employers VPN. There is some little flicky-flicky-flicky thing that occurs when I try to comment on blogs. Trust me. I read your blogs. I want to desperately comment. I simply can't.
Now, run along to your perfect little lives.

Wednesday, September 19, 2007


Digestive issues run rampant through my body after surgery. My primary issue seems to be lactose intolerance, where anything in dairy form seems to enter my body in the most delicious form and exit in the most voracious and unappealing of ways.
For your consideration, I shall present three examples to gain your understanding before I quickly lose your faithful readership faster than Britney Spears loses hair, talent, underwear, credibility, money, family, and her children.
Example one: Caramel macchiato, sugar-free vanilla, non-fat milk, light foam.
Example two: Vanilla ice-cream, hot fudge and peanut butter.
Example three: Pizza
You see, it just runs right through me now. Without so much as a tummy rumble, what you could consider the alarm clock of digestive issues, waking you up to prepare you that QUITE POSSIBLY you may want to be in the vicinity near a toilet at some point in the future, my body now has gone from resorting from acting like a peaceful country avoiding war conflict, and now all I feel is this sudden twinge and immediately sirens blare and DEFCON 1!, DEFCON 1!, DEFCON 1!, starts chirping out as I squeeze my thighs tightly together and hobble off to the nearest loo.
The Payroll Nazi at work is known for similar issues. I have deftly managed for three years to avoid the work restroom between the hours of 1 to 3 p.m. because of the lingering scent of old lady shit stench that cannot be masked by industrial-strength sanitising air spray. And now I am her. An old lady with digestive issues whose shit really stinks.
I had an early morning meeting at Starbucks and on my two-minute drive back to the office my body started blaring that damn DEFCOM 1 signal. I ran-walked-clenched-squeezed my legs through three security doors, left my belongings in my office, continued to engage my sphincter muscles as I hobbled to the other side of the building, past the receptionist who suddenly wanted to engage me in conversation as I mustered a 'not now - in a rush' with one of those pained looks on my face, and then mere seconds later felt the most awkward and uncomfortable yet sweet relief known to mankind.
Until someone walked in. And choked. And went... well, I think it was, "Err-ohhh-ugggghhhhh". Then she quickly left.
And to be honest? I'm actually kind of proud.