Look Out Blog World

Look out blog world my little sister has come to town
and if I do say so myself she's pretty fucking hilarious.

Wah

I just burned the fuck out of my arm.
At work I reached over a steaming tea
kettle like an idiot and was scalded
across the wrist by the steam. It hurts
like hell! After stomping my way to CVS
in the snow, I bought burn cream and a
bandage and can officially say that I am
now really crabby. Plus I have about $70
to last me until the 15th. Great. Someone
get me drunk.

So hey, I got the new job. I guess wearing
the rant pants and boots and no top to the
interview worked. Har Har.

For those of you that can appreciate a sad
yet amusing tale of one's favorite office chair
being taken away read this and be sure
to send your condolences.

The Red Pants Are Talking

Today I wore fire engine red pants to an interview.
The pants screamed 'WOW! HELLO RED PANTS!'

I also wore black boots with holes in them.
My boots screamed 'HELP! WE NEED MONEY!'

It is my second round of interviews. The people
are great. One was chewing gum. The first question
they asked was, 'Do you ski or snowboard?' and
they were serious. I said neither but I'd like to try
snowboarding. Then I launched into an embarrassing
story about how in 8th grade I wiped out in front of
the class hunk on a ski field trip. Ba da dum.

The President of the company said, 'I'm impressed
by your resume and experience. I find you bold and
aggressive but in a good way. We need someone
that is not afraid to manage a team of artists their
own age or older. I'm confident you could handle it.'

Gulp. You are? I think can I think I can I think I can
said the little train that could. Or was it the red pants
talking?

I hate when I dash off to work late and
unshowered having thrown on a short
sleeved green zip up sweatshirt thing only
to find out when I get there that I am late
for a new client meeting and am dressed
like the Incredible Hulk. *grunt*

Sugar Rehab

One time in junior high I came home to find
a bag of chocolate covered espresso beans
in the kitchen. I was very excited. We were
not allowed to eat any candy or cereal or
anything with sugar on it growing up so you
can imagine my delight.

Unfortunately I was like a crack addict and
was not able to stop at one or two. Before I
knew it I had eaten the entire bag until my
mouth was literally numb and my heart was
beating so fast that I was convinced I was
going to die.

My mom came home and found me in bed
sweating up a storm and chanting, 'I think
I 'm going to die..' repeatedly. She thought
I was on drugs until I pointed to the ground
at the empty bag of espresso beans.

Today, someone brought chocolates from
Geneva to the office. I can honestly say I've
eaten about twenty of them. Help. I think it's
time for sugar rehab again.