30 Days- Day 1

I see what you people are doing! I see it! A 30 day challenge! I can do it too! It just might be a 60 day challenge. But that would be very good of me to actually finish something. So here we go.

Question 1. Five things to win my heart.

Ooh, boy. This is a toughy. Not because I have a heart of stone, but because there are many more than five things that would make someone win my heart. It may actually be easier to pick five things that WOULDN’T win my heart.

1. Money.

I don’t give a shit about money. And I won’t love you ’cause you buy me a castle. But I will sleep with you.

2. Assholery.

If you are nice to me, and are a giant buttface to the girl who brings us french fries, I’m not sorry to say that I won’t love you.

3. Giant penises.

From my experience, the mens with smaller Junk are better in bed and try harder. Giant penises are just bigger funky looking things. If I had a third boob, would you want it to be big? Ok, nevermind.

4. Obssession with something other than me.

I’m aright with you playing Resident Evil 7 for 13 hours straight if you fuck my brains out with just as much energy afterward. I also don’t have a problem with you watching the Vikings game if I’m sitting on your naked lap for most of it. I! ME! I’m more interesting that Adrien Petersen, although he does look very fun in his shiny pantalone’s.

5. Lazy Bum Syndrome.

I’m all about coming home from work and vegging out in front of Sex and the City with a drink in my hand (I LOOOVE that song!) , but really, you should go to work in the first place.

Ok, I think that’s about it for now, but don’t worry. I’ll finish the challenge.

P.S. I was completely drunk on 99 Grapes when I wrote this post, so shut up. But I love you!

 

Quandry

I am proud to announce, my Lovelys, that I have a new job!

I also have one tiny huge problem.

A few weeks ago, I ventured into the happiest place on earth. No, not Disneyland, but a place filled with glitter, and paint, and feathers, and everything beautiful- Crafts Direct. For those of you not from frozen Minnesota, think of Hobby Lobby, or Michaels, or Joann Fabrics on steroids. While I am not the craftiest person in the world, (as I am able only to re-sew buttons onto shirts that have popped because of my magnificent busooms) I have dabbled in oil painting (and pissed off the person I did a portrait of), and jewelry making, and in the buying of peacock feathers for various projects. Of course, upon seeing the many signs posted : Now Hiring!, my imagination went wild at the thought of spending my paid days amongst sparkly and seasonal decorations. (and using my employee discount on these very things.) I filled out an application, feeling a bit disheartened as I observed the many other individuals doing the exact thing as I. I left not fully expecting to be called; for what would make the hiring gods of Crafts Direct pick my app out of the many that were surely piled upon their desks?

Needless to say, my Sparkle somehow managed to catch their eye, and I was hired upon my impressive interview.(where I wore everything crafty and bright.) While I truly detest being a pizza slut, I must stay working as one, and I will explain why.

It seems in my short year (or longest year of my life) as a pizza slut, I have become superior at my job. It also happens that there is no one there that is even semi-ready to take my place. There is also one other thing I may have forgotten to mention.

My boss is very pretty.

Let me point out- I love my Rockstar and he is my Beloved. That being said, I am a sucker for a pretty face. I have failed to mention the little fact that my boss is highly attractive because there is a small chance that I could be fired for saying so so blatantly on my blog. However, given my quandry, being fired would solve my dilemma.

You see, because my boss is pretty, and is not an assface, I feel terrible for leaving him without a sufficient replacement for me. Sadly, he knows that I find him to be easy on the eyes, and has surely used this to his advantage by giving me sad dejected puppy eyes when I told him I got a new job. Fuckin’ A.

“Can you not stay until January, so I have time to find a new you?” He pleaded with me. My heart broke.

While I have told him I will stay as full time as I can until he doesn’t need me anymore, (and that he will surely never find another me) I  explained how I have never dreamed of being a Pizza Slut, and am not fulfilling my destiny doing so. Unfortunateley, I suspect he knows of my histrionic personality, and has since assured me of my general awesomeness as a runner of my store. Such excessive attentions have always been my downfall.

I am also concerned that when I do eventually leave, all my employees shall follow me in the quitting.

Ask me why I care so about a job I don’t give a shit about. The only answer I can come up with is, “I have a pretty boss.” Damn me and my attraction to everything beautiful.