I would like to be successful enough in business that I need a corporate headshot.
And powerful enough in business for the background of my corporate headshot to have lasers.
Also, something about world peace.
This is a perfect description. That is all.
I think you could fall in love with anyone if you saw the parts of them no one else gets to see. Like if you followed them around invisibly for a day and saw them crying in their bed at night or singing in the shower or humming quietly to themselves as they make a sandwich or even just walking along the street. And even if they were really weird and had no friends at school, I think, after seeing them at their most vulnerable, you wouldn’t be able to help falling in love with them.
I like this. I feel like I fall in love every 5 minutes because of what this describes.
Look at those ladies swooning for Don’s super macho barrel chested confident reaction to the ruptured faucet. I love that Zoobie is biting her thumb!
Right!? You bite that thumb…and that Don. Good work.
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Peter Cameron (via kari-shma)This. |
Working is the only thing that gets me out of bed in the morning. After a two day silence and several weeks of nothingness, today she texted “I think of you everyday”. I hate that. I hate that a sentence that is clearly not true can make me feel like I should be crying. It’s not even that I miss her anymore. I’m over the lack of care and general bitch level I had to deal with. But I am lonely. I want to want and be wanted. It’s hard to get to sleep at night without a thought of wrapping my limbs around someone. Working hard makes me want to play hard and love hard and do all the things for someone that working allows me to do. I want to share my wine and my couch. A reason to leave work early on a weekday might just be magic. Meanwhile, my work husby, D, and I are drinking enough to sustain a solid AA group and working 70 hours a week like it’s normal. We are living the dream of doing ALL the work to make all the cashes but at night he lays next to his girl and I lay awake waiting to write on a blank slate. I don’t know how to meet people in this new city and I think I may just have to go to the club or the bar…because I think that’s what people do…and apparently, I need people.
I bought this bottle of white wine instead of red wine because the bottle is blue and long. I like it and am going to have my glass guy drill a hole in it so I can put in lights and make it a pretty blue light. The point is, I will drink any terrible beverage for any reason. And I’m a little drunk right now so you should know that if you keep reading. Then again, besides Jess, I’m not sure who reads this bizness. It’s more of an online spewing of my thoughts than a blog if no one sees it. Regardless, wine. I really like that it makes me want to text and write and think instead of just dance wildly around my apartment. I miss 4Loko but it def wasn’t a drink I could have and then form sentences. Sometimes I remember one of the first times I took E. Like legit took enough E to feel on E for a whole night. I remember that music sounded better but the words people said didn’t matter…they were just sounds. I remember sitting on N and T’s porch on a canvas lawn chair. N sat on my lap and I kept rubbing the lower part of her back and side. It was soft and on E…the best thing ever. The night air was warm and I just didn’t give a shit about anything but feeling me. I smile now when I think of it and how funny I probably looked. But I don’t care…it was fun…it was a time when N and I were trying to figure out what the fuck we were doing besides work. We both had dudes to deal with and work we hated and sitting on that porch after I did her dishes and she made me food…it was just good times. I wouldn’t do E now because it’s probably not the healthiest choice but that’s where we were…in a space where parties and porch sitting while smoking just made sense. There won’t be times like again because we are older and different. I don’t think either of us will ever sit on a porch where a chair gets set on fire later in the night or decide to quit a job while eating lunch on a daybed in a living room. That’s not a bad thing. But I miss ridiculous times. I miss the possibility of fun for no reason. I miss that things won’t be the same between us again because life has made us older and somehow even more jaded. I miss things and I miss stuff. Maybe that’s why the wine feels so right…wine doesn’t care that I’m going back to work and that it’s 30 degrees outside. It cares about memories and dreams. I hope I don’t forget them.
