Do you ever look back in your life and thank the Lord Jesus that you never slept with all the guys that you could have slept with?
Honestly that little voice - or fear - or pastor - or whatever it was that stopped you - was secretly a vessel sent back in time - much like The Terminator - to save you from your possible regrets in a parallel universe.
Thank God for Terminators.
I mean, think about whoever you were dating, say, 3 years ago, and tell me you are not shivering at the thought that you could have given them the cookie.
Not everyone needs the cookie. In fact, many of those have had too much cookie. They need to lay off the damn calories.
Some of them don't eat the cookie right. They're messy - spilling crumbs all over the place, or not using napkins right. I mean, camaaan. Are you Mowgli?
Also...the cookie is a powerful weapon, something I am consistently discovering. You see, unlike all the women in movies who know exactly what they are dangling, I have no idea how to dangle. I tend to throw ish out there and hope someone gets the hint. Not so that I can give out the cookie - this is very important - but so that people THINK I am going to give out the cookie.
I learnt this in House of Lies (SO funny). When guys think there is hope to become a cookie monster, it's surprising how much they will do for you. Even with me, who half the time - sorry, most of the time - is clueless. People do your work for you, cover for you and ish, open doors and ish (that's what chivalry is, ladies. HAHA just kidding. I think. I wouldn't know. I'm clueless.)
So it's not intentional.
I swear. Haha.
Being a woman. Who knew?
Friday, December 27, 2013
Tuesday, December 24, 2013
Confessions of a thief
I really like hotels.
What's there not to like? Someone picks up after you...makes your bed...feeds you at all times of the day...has a pool...also for being fed next to...locks you away from the rest of the world (sightseeing? WHY??) and much as we like to say absolute power corrupts, we want some of that power. We want to be able to say I want Swiss berries dripping with Belgian chocolate and a glass of pink champagne, and have someone go get it.
On sightseeing, my friends and I went on a trip once to a place where you could go on safari and look at elephants or whatever. We weren't allowed to go on the safari (we were on the Semi Sufferer package) but we didn't even want to. We just kind of sat around and vegged all day. The whole time. I got some serious overeating drama after that. (no, seriously. For crying.)
One of the best things about hotels is the bathrooms. It's too big...it's too much...it's just right. I WILL fit. And the huge fluffy towels.
And the bathrobes? Which I always want to steal. They wrap around you like a comforting (dead) polar bear. You just want to lie down and tell it all your criminal secrets. And never, ever leave.
What I usually steal is (NO, NOT THE 42" TV) the little soaps and shampoos they leave for me. Yes, FOR ME. What are they going to do with the one ounce left over? PSSSSH. You're SUPPOSED to take that stuff with you.
Everyone knows that.
I was in a hotel last month and they had the fluffiest of the fluffs necessary for drying our heat-soaked bodies (porno? No? Ok). I reeeeeally wanted to take a towel. They wouldn't have noticed - they are a new hotel. I almost felt obligated to take it so that they would begin to get acclimatized to Hotel Thievery (I prefer to call it Leisurely Lifting). Because everyone knows it's not stealing that makes you a thief...it's the degree of swell on your suitcase as you leave. Having to sit on your bag makes you black as sin...anything below that is moderately passable. Especially minute shampoo bottles.
I didn't take the towel.
I DID take a flannel.
Because...the room I took it from, they had not even put one in in the first place. So of course they were not going to notice it was gone. I was balancing out the equation.
This is the biggest job I've ever done. I gotta tell you, I feel a little guilty...until I step into the shower and the perfect, delicate combination of smooth-on-rough of that beautiful, beautiful facecloth envelops me in its glory.
Nope, still guilty.
But soft.
:D :D :D
tSN
What's there not to like? Someone picks up after you...makes your bed...feeds you at all times of the day...has a pool...also for being fed next to...locks you away from the rest of the world (sightseeing? WHY??) and much as we like to say absolute power corrupts, we want some of that power. We want to be able to say I want Swiss berries dripping with Belgian chocolate and a glass of pink champagne, and have someone go get it.
On sightseeing, my friends and I went on a trip once to a place where you could go on safari and look at elephants or whatever. We weren't allowed to go on the safari (we were on the Semi Sufferer package) but we didn't even want to. We just kind of sat around and vegged all day. The whole time. I got some serious overeating drama after that. (no, seriously. For crying.)
One of the best things about hotels is the bathrooms. It's too big...it's too much...it's just right. I WILL fit. And the huge fluffy towels.
And the bathrobes? Which I always want to steal. They wrap around you like a comforting (dead) polar bear. You just want to lie down and tell it all your criminal secrets. And never, ever leave.
What I usually steal is (NO, NOT THE 42" TV) the little soaps and shampoos they leave for me. Yes, FOR ME. What are they going to do with the one ounce left over? PSSSSH. You're SUPPOSED to take that stuff with you.
Everyone knows that.
I was in a hotel last month and they had the fluffiest of the fluffs necessary for drying our heat-soaked bodies (porno? No? Ok). I reeeeeally wanted to take a towel. They wouldn't have noticed - they are a new hotel. I almost felt obligated to take it so that they would begin to get acclimatized to Hotel Thievery (I prefer to call it Leisurely Lifting). Because everyone knows it's not stealing that makes you a thief...it's the degree of swell on your suitcase as you leave. Having to sit on your bag makes you black as sin...anything below that is moderately passable. Especially minute shampoo bottles.
I didn't take the towel.
I DID take a flannel.
Because...the room I took it from, they had not even put one in in the first place. So of course they were not going to notice it was gone. I was balancing out the equation.
This is the biggest job I've ever done. I gotta tell you, I feel a little guilty...until I step into the shower and the perfect, delicate combination of smooth-on-rough of that beautiful, beautiful facecloth envelops me in its glory.
Nope, still guilty.
But soft.
:D :D :D
tSN
Thursday, December 19, 2013
Office...
Office crushes are overrated.
Especially if they are based on what dress you are wearing.
That having been said, my dress today is short and Number 4 noticed.
HAHA, that being said, we can call him Alex.
(OMG She will be loved by Maroon 5 is playing in my ear. *sigh* My childhood)
Alex hasn't spoken to me in a while...until The Dress. I think that maybe, perhaps it's because I told him about Wolverine and the fact that whatever we're doing (suggestive whatsapping, etc) is going pretty much nowhere.
I mean, why would you wanna stop talking to me after that winning speech?
Anyhue, as we have gathered, men have no decency, especially none in the direction that indicates they should become LESS cute after you shut certain doors, but NO.
CLEARLY too much to ask.
He's really cute, guys.
*sigh*
ANYhue, the dress. I looked exactly the same last week, but some guy in the elevator stopped me to get my card. Um...hahaha, I hope this dude doesn't think I look like this everyday. I mean, I spend effort on things like blogging...not hemlines. Then he texted me like 2 second later (which is focused, creepy and kinda cute at the same damn time) and said, 'Wea at'
Np punctuation and like 16 words missing.
30 letters.
2 words from me:
Turn.
Off.
*now playing Wild One. You know, when the old FLo Rida we knew and loved - I use that word loosely - died a painful, techno-soundtracked death*
Should I text him to lose my number?
Why did I give him my number?
I need to learn how to say no.
When men are asking for...um...cards.
I realize that men are visual creatures, but come on.
No?
Ok.
Maybe I should tell Alex I don't wear underwear tomorrow.
No?
nvm...
tSN
Especially if they are based on what dress you are wearing.
That having been said, my dress today is short and Number 4 noticed.
HAHA, that being said, we can call him Alex.
(OMG She will be loved by Maroon 5 is playing in my ear. *sigh* My childhood)
Alex hasn't spoken to me in a while...until The Dress. I think that maybe, perhaps it's because I told him about Wolverine and the fact that whatever we're doing (suggestive whatsapping, etc) is going pretty much nowhere.
I mean, why would you wanna stop talking to me after that winning speech?
Anyhue, as we have gathered, men have no decency, especially none in the direction that indicates they should become LESS cute after you shut certain doors, but NO.
CLEARLY too much to ask.
He's really cute, guys.
*sigh*
ANYhue, the dress. I looked exactly the same last week, but some guy in the elevator stopped me to get my card. Um...hahaha, I hope this dude doesn't think I look like this everyday. I mean, I spend effort on things like blogging...not hemlines. Then he texted me like 2 second later (which is focused, creepy and kinda cute at the same damn time) and said, 'Wea at'
Np punctuation and like 16 words missing.
30 letters.
2 words from me:
Turn.
Off.
*now playing Wild One. You know, when the old FLo Rida we knew and loved - I use that word loosely - died a painful, techno-soundtracked death*
Should I text him to lose my number?
Why did I give him my number?
I need to learn how to say no.
When men are asking for...um...cards.
I realize that men are visual creatures, but come on.
No?
Ok.
Maybe I should tell Alex I don't wear underwear tomorrow.
No?
nvm...
tSN
Monday, December 2, 2013
Being an adult
I don't think I am going to pay my rent next month.
While it is easy to presume that not everyone can be stupid, it is careful to realize that underestimating people's stupidity often causes blood pressure.
Like my landlady.
So, I move into this house, tres excited about moving on up from a studio, and the first day I sat on the toilet seat (you know it all comes back to the bathroom with me) it breaks. As does the one in the other bathroom. And no, it wasn't fries. I promptly lodge a complaint. The landlady assures the caretaker who assures me that there will be a new seat in next week.
It's been 2 months.
Every time I talk to the caretaker, he says he has been talking to her/they came but were not enough/it's coming in next week. This may be naive of me, but I like the caretaker. So I don't think he's lying. And I have gone through some pretty douchebaggy caretakers in my tenant life (which, with any luck, won't last for too long, and then I WILL buy by own damn toilet seat), so I am giving him the benefit of the doubt.
I have asked for her email address. She refuses to give it out. (Oh look! Douchebaggery!)
If she's not living up to her end of the bargain, why should I? Accept and move on my unsheltered-from-the-bowl ass.
I've been weighing the pros and cons of the situation. I am not the only neighbour she is shitting on (everywhere must be littered with loolike references). We could stage a protest (in the form of rent, or TPing...something). Then she could kick me out. Then I could sue her, and NEVER HAVE TO WORK AGAIN! WIN ALL THE LAWSUITS!!
I feel like it's a plan.
tSN
While it is easy to presume that not everyone can be stupid, it is careful to realize that underestimating people's stupidity often causes blood pressure.
Like my landlady.
So, I move into this house, tres excited about moving on up from a studio, and the first day I sat on the toilet seat (you know it all comes back to the bathroom with me) it breaks. As does the one in the other bathroom. And no, it wasn't fries. I promptly lodge a complaint. The landlady assures the caretaker who assures me that there will be a new seat in next week.
It's been 2 months.
Every time I talk to the caretaker, he says he has been talking to her/they came but were not enough/it's coming in next week. This may be naive of me, but I like the caretaker. So I don't think he's lying. And I have gone through some pretty douchebaggy caretakers in my tenant life (which, with any luck, won't last for too long, and then I WILL buy by own damn toilet seat), so I am giving him the benefit of the doubt.
I have asked for her email address. She refuses to give it out. (Oh look! Douchebaggery!)
If she's not living up to her end of the bargain, why should I? Accept and move on my unsheltered-from-the-bowl ass.
I've been weighing the pros and cons of the situation. I am not the only neighbour she is shitting on (everywhere must be littered with loolike references). We could stage a protest (in the form of rent, or TPing...something). Then she could kick me out. Then I could sue her, and NEVER HAVE TO WORK AGAIN! WIN ALL THE LAWSUITS!!
I feel like it's a plan.
tSN
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