If it wasn't for my sleeping habits I would never be on the 6 train. Firstly, it's local, and secondly it sucks balls during the morning rush hour. Sardines, I tell ya! Since moving and discovering the 2 and 3 trains I've been spoiled. I don't ever have to worry about having my butt molested. Maintaining my personal bubble is important to my sanity.
I shot a guy dressed in a suit, refusing to take his gym bag off his shoulder, an evil look. At that moment he was the most hated person in my life. It's courtesy, really. Leaving a bag that takes up an entire body's worth of space on your person is quite asshole-y when on a crowded train.
Gah.
]]>A while back, on my old, deleted, blog, I wrote a post titled "The Man-Tier." The queue included five generalizing titles including (and this is the condensed version):
6.) Ugly. Too repulsive to touch with a ten foot pole being held by someone else's hands.
5.) Cute. The boy next door who's as sweet as apple pie.
4.) Hot. Model gorgeous with a nauseating ego.
2.) Handsome. Take him home to mom type because he's the stuff dreams are made off.
1.) Sexy-Ugly. An imperfect beauty with confidence oozing from every pore, and his unspoken "it" factor makes him irresistible.
Though any man could fit within these categories I failed to mention the one enigma women chose to have a love-hate relationship with . . . The asshole. This guy can throw you for a loop and you just might end up loving it. He's stuck in your head like an earworm but he ignores you to your breaking point, a smartass with an attitude of superiority, so so selfish; all the reasons why you should walk away but then, oh, but then, he keeps hope alive. He replies to your messages on the ninth hour with the right response. Every once in while he lets you enlighten him with a random factoid to give you a shinning moment. Time is suddenly cleared from his busy schedule, for you. As soon as you think he's predictably inconsiderate he does something sweet and thoughtful. And there you are hooked on crack. That smidgen of approval you crave from some jerk that's not worth the effort keeps you coming back for more because you feel like you've earned it. He makes you work for it. If you're the kind of girl that receives compliments (whether it's on your brains, body, or entire package) on a regular basis you're easily bored. A diet of rare, and what appears to be, genuine affection from someone you're interested in can make a woman do things she never would: let him getaway with shit you're sure you're above, miss the sex you thought you could do without, even beg reconciliation when things end and you have no idea why.
It's a lucrative pussy business when it comes to being an asshole. They know just how to work you, emotionally and physically. It's a science some have mastered with little effort. They're frighteningly clever and resourceful and manipulative and they get what they want as long as you let them. Men who live in the asshole realm like to play. Beware. They are out there, and they can make you fall without warning.
It's all about the game.
]]>An hour and a half is left in my day. I have to sit here and look semi-worth-the-paycheck for another hour and a half. Don't get me wrong I like having a job but in this heat wave I think the recruiters failed to set up more interviews.
Seriously, way too bored.
Someone have the heart and entertain me, PLEASE. I will trade you devilish humor for humor. HELP!
]]>Why do you blog?
Submitted by littleduckling.
Because I get bored.
]]>adore:
deplore:
What are your first thoughts upon waking?
Submitted by Cher Cabula.
"am i over it yet?"
]]>I have several bug bites to account for it. These creatures that sneak in under my sheets at night might be breeding near the foot of my bed. I have five itchy red bumps below the knee. I have the feeling they're getting courageous enough to explore -- I found two itchies right under my left collar bone, my forearm fell victim, and one of the bastards planted a flag on my back. I feel so sexy, I tell ya, just in time for summer nudity.
Though I am curious as to what little six or more legged monsters are feasting on me as I slumber I'm more worried about how many. I'm hoping it's just one species of whatever but I have found at least two bugs that look nothing alike. I'm sure I'll be looking like a insect bite collage by the end of the week: [pointing at marble sized red bitch] and this one here is from a Wes Nile infected mosquito; watch as the rash spreads and my lymph nodes swell.
Two things I want to do this week(end) not mite related:
- grab a slice of pizza from Artichoke Basille's PIzza & Brewery . . . looks hella good.
- and who wouldn't want to peer across the world to good ol' LDN? I must go to the telescope!
. . . still . . . I hate itching.
]]>. . . it's a good thing.
]]>I received my rebate check earlier in the week. I was prudent enough to put half away, but who am I kidding? I'm a chick. I have to go and put it to good use, you know . . . to stimulate the economy.
There are a few movies out that look really good. I have my eyes on The Strangers and Sex and the City. What human with a vagina wouldn't want to rush the ushers for a seat to the year's biggest movie premiere? This is when I feel the void the best friend has left in my life. :-(
Whatever. It's Friday and the business day is half over. Totally ready for the weekend.
]]>he mentioned in an e-mail that i had a "disregard for those last 10 pounds." not sure about you but when someone says i could lose a few i get a smidge insecure. i joined a gym last night and proceeded to work out for two hours (half yoga, the other on machines). i'm starting to feel some soreness. even though i've been out of the loop for 5 months i'm still in pretty decent shape.
lighter? hmph. in two weeks i'm going to look so good it'd make a grown man cry. fucker.
]]>