"They're hicks, Rita."

Having one of those mornings where I'm thinking, "What is even the point of all of this?" Everything seems totally mundane and ridiculous and exhaustingly repetitive. I need a different job so bad but I read this very scary article this morning:

http://finance.yahoo.com/focus-retirement/article/110742/for-the-unemployed-over-50-fears-of-never-working-again?mod=fidelity-changingjobs&cat=fidelity_2010_changing_jobs

Of course, I'm not over 50, but still I worry. The thing is, I really like to eat and buy stuff. And my dog really enjoys eating and having stuff bought for him, too. In spite of how miserable work is, I have total job security. Unfortunately (or fortunately, from my boss's POV), there will never be a shortage of dog poop to bitch about and never enough people to field calls from the mentally ill. I just don't know how much longer I'm going to be able to stomach it before becoming one myself.

Oh, and Mr. U is just awful. He's just not a good human being and this fact continues to rear its ugly head in spite of my repeated attempts to ignore this and focus on the more appealing body parts until this miraculously changes. It's an insurmountable problem. So, honest to God, I'm quitting it. This will be the last post in which his moniker is mentioned.



R.I.P. ~M1L

Show Me Your Boots

I bought some senseless super-sexy thigh high black leather Nine West boots at Marshall's on Saturday night for the low, low price of $60. I was initially unsure of whether I should purchase them because I'm a horrible shopper, so I came up with the brilliant idea of taking a picture of the boots on my cell phone to ask my friend whether I should buy them. Her texted response was "Fuk YES!!! Those are AWESOME!!! Buy me a pair, size 9!" So, I bought a pair for myself, a pair for my friend, along with another pair of silver BCBGeneration 5" heels that were on the clearance rack for $15. It was a sexy shoe night and I was quite happy. My friend was in New York visiting her boyfriend, so when I came home, I tried on the boots and took a picture of myself to send to her so she could see what they looked like.


Fast forward to this morning when I brought the boots to the office for my friend, who is also a co-worker. I also brought the silver heels so she could see them, per her request. My other friend/co-worker with whom I work closely is like a second mom to me. She is 62 years-old and just the greatest. As she knows me well, she was super-impressed and surprised by my purchases because she knows I hate to shop and even though I do have a fondness for nice clothes and an even greater affection for sexy, slutty shoes, I rarely go out and spend my money on that sort of thing. My wardrobe, particularly for work, is usually quite simple.


Anyway, my second mom-friend made me try on the silver shoes so she could see me walk in them, which I did. The boots I had for my friend were in a larger size, so I said I had a picture from Saturday of what I looked like in the boots. I got out my phone and showed her. The picture turned dark, so I hit a button to lighten it up so second mom could see. What showed up bright and clear was a picture of my boobs that I sent to Mr. U a few weeks ago that was still in my memory card.

Yes boobs, not boots. Not a typo, though you have no idea how much I wish it were.



I should say she THOUGHT she knew me well. ~M1L