What the FUCK

Does anybody (I hope everybody, actually) remember this?

I remember being 13 and absolutely LOVING that movie. We would watch it at sleep overs, we would quote it in the hall ways of middle school, we would dream of being a heinous bitch accepted by a fancy east coast art school who gets rescued by a dirty, rude man.

Oh how I loved it. I still love it. If that shit comes on TV on a Friday night I am all over it. So I guess it doesn't surprise me that ABC family is trying to give the next generation (not really generation, just like 10 years younger than me) the joy all of us felt at Lakeside Middle School.

I said it doesn't surprise me, but it still pisses me off.

Seriously, can't you at least change the title so people don't associate it with Heath Leger so much? It's bad enough that they keep making my beloved Shakespeare plays into tween romcoms, please don't make my beloved teen romcoms into tacky tween TV shows. It's like the world has lost all sense of decency.

A Conversation with my Boss

Boss: "You remind me much of myself at your age. My vice principal asked me to prom, now that was inappropriate..."
Me: "Yes, much like this conversation."

An Odd Side Effect

Something about being done captioning telephones for the night makes me really...really...horny. I doubt this is actually tied to the phone calls because those just generally make me sad, furious or amuse me, but despite how many times I swear at my computer during the day, once I'm out of there I want to get busy.

I was rubbing my arm in the car today and I almost licked myself with appreciation. This is getting disgusting and weird. Unforch with the hours I work it is getting even more unlikely that I will ever have sex again.

That would be an excellent booty call: "Hey, what's up? Oh, I'm just done with work, what are you doing tonight? Hey, you want to come over to my house for a while tonight? No, like literally 'a while.' Does 10:45 to 11:05 work in your schedule? Because I have work in the morning and I didn't get off until just now. Cool, so just meet me at my house and we can fuck for 20 minutes and then you can disappear into the night."

Um, I don't have enough time to even masturbate this problem away.

14th Hour

Yeah. Take that, day. I pwned you, bitch.

LLllluuggghhh

So tonight I was having this dream about work and I was talking to one of my co-workers but every time I opened my mouth really obnoxious squeaking came out. Like, my vocal cords had been replaced by noisy bed springs...

Whore fucker is at it again. It took such a fucking long time tonight I more than considered texting him to hurry along and finish up so I could go back to sleep. I would have gone in the living room like I usually do but my roommate was having some sort of gurgling panic attack that I was better left absent from.

So I laid there, as some girl moaned and Whorefucker pounded for 30 seconds...pounded for 30 seconds...POUNDED for 30 seconds, getting increasingly annoyed.

I tried hand-over-ear. Nope. Pillow-over-ear. Nope. I-can't-remember-where-I-put-my-earplugs-maybe-I-should-turn-on-the-light-and-look-for-them-over-ear. Obvs not.

Well, all good things must come to an end, and such was Whorefucker's romp. Joy once again returned to the kingdom...for like a millisecond.

Waking me up with sex wasn't enough, these two lovebirds needed to have a massive fight immediately after. They are actually still fighting. I have no idea what about because I have no idea who this girl is but he has been fighting with a lot of girls lately. To be frank I get enough of other people's juicy drama in my waking hours at work, I don't really need more when I am trying to sleep at 5 am.

Desire in a Nutshell

My new job is going great. I am really enjoying the work and find my markable improvement at my tasks inspiring. Today somebody told me that I was their "pick" in the supervisor betting pool for who was going to graduate.

I don't mind the hours either. 4-10 sounds like a really long time, but all I would usually do from 4-10 is find excuses to eat and watch TV, so I am not missing much. Except after I get off work I am starving.

I don't know if it is HUNGER really, because I eat peanut butter sandwiches and apples every night, or a need to reward myself and fulfill myself with something.

Tonight after I got off work, took a bus back to campus, walked a mile in the dark back home and finally took off my bra I was ready. I was ready for something deep-fried and filled with cheese.

The food I have at my house right now is all shit that is decently healthy that you can take with you. Granola bars, cereal, stuff for sandwiches, shit like that. The last thing I wanted was whole grains. I wanted fucking JUNK food.

So, after working six hours and commuting one, I got my ass in my car and went to the grocery store. Apparently they close at 11 because the fucking doors wouldn't open for me. Fuckers.

So then I drove to Pizza Hut. Closed. Culvers. Closed. Then I began to entertain a notion that I didn't want cream-cheese filled jalapeno poppers at all, I wanted something else. Did I want dick?

Well, I scrolled through my phone book for names of people who I could possibly booty call. And then I realized that if I had booty calls I would be actually having sex sometimes. Dammit.

I wanted to fuck and be fucked until I couldn't breathe and didn't want soft pretzels from the freezer section anymore. I wanted to fuck until I fell asleep on my freshly washed bedding and be so tired I didn't care that I made it dirty again. I wanted an epic fuck.

But, like I said, I have nobody on retainer willing to have sex with me, so I was left with a pantry of fucking granola bars. I made waffles. They were delicious, but it wasn't what I wanted. Granola bar type 1? No, that didn't work. Granola bar type 2? Fuck that noise.

I was ping ponging back and forth on which vice I needed to indulge before I could relax for the night. And then I realized I was home alone. After realizing that I was like "Where the fuck is everybody?" But, being an opportunistic wanker I decided not to look a gift horse in the mouth and got down to business.

Typing is the only motion I can currently handle. Hurray! I didn't need mini tacos after all!

Gardening with Whore Fucker

Something people do when they grow up and mature is nurture things. Things like animals, children and plants. "Plants" is in italics because this post will discuss my plants, which are the only thing I am currently taking care of (including myself).

The house I live in is very nice and in a very nice little residential area. There is a giant porch and multiple areas of dirt where you're supposed to plant shit. So, being the mature young lady I am, I planted shit.

I have pots of peppers and herbs and some mystery flower bulbs all planted in the front yard, and surprise of surprises, whore fucker planted some stuff in the back yard all on his own. I guess this makes us, sadly, the most mature in this house.

Because we have everything in common now, whore fucker and I have been having cute little gardening chats, the most exciting of them happening yesterday.

See, my porch faces east, so when it is nice out in the morning/early afternoon I lay out and tan in obnoxiously large sunglasses while drinking lemonade through curly straws. When I tan in the comfort of my own home, I tan. Basically I slut it up until it is almost illegal. I'm talking strapless top pulled as close down to my nipples as possible and whatever pants I am wearing yanked up as high as leg permits. I could just put a swimming suit on, but that doesn't feel nearly as trashy.

And I've gotten away with the slut act so far because nobody upstairs wakes up before 2 pm. Except yesterday, as I'm basking in cancer-rays, who should decide to join me for an impromptu gardening talk, but whore fucker.

We were both at least half naked. I was slutted as thusly described and he was wearing shorts. Just shorts. Luckily, he appears to have let his chest chill out over the winter, so I was able to not stare longingly at his abs.

So yeah, he is worried about his tomatoes because the leaves are turning white. My peppers are beginning to bloom, we are both very excited, and then he stared at my chest for a while and left.

It was all very nice, except like two hours later I was leaning down to ask my brother a question out the back window and whore fucker was on his way to the mall with him (to "hold hands") that he asked me if I was naked. "Are you naked?!" "Um...no..." although I can't admit I blamed him.