The Over-Educated Nympho

It’s been a shitty day. Earlier I was anxious to post about the progress I made on my novel, but my mojo disintegrated as the day progressed. It’s been one of those days. You know, where you’re so cranky that you want to piss all over everyone else’s happy moods for offending you with their big fat ugly smiles? Oh sweetie you can shove that where the sun don’t shine. And out of the kindness of my own heart, I’LL HELP. Now bend over.

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I disappeared for the Memorial Day weekend. As much as I would love to say I spent three days at the pool in a bikini with a pitcher of margaritas at my side, I would be lying. It HAD TO FUCKING RAIN. EVERY AFTERNOON. And then today? When I’m back at work? Beautiful! Ooooh I’m shaking my fist at you, Mr. Sun. Don’t make me give you something to cry about, bitch, BECAUSE I WILL.

The crappy weather however made for a convenient excuse to get a lot of work done on my infant novel. I spent three days buried under a pile of papers, files, books, and journals–and it was fantastic. Although the deep caverns of my own psyche were a tad scary. Apparently I use sex as a weapon against mankind. Huh.*

Back to regular postings tonight.

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*Oh my god, sooooo kidding. I already knew that.

Back in my heyday of singledom (i.e. when I got laid more than once every couple months), it would have been nice to have some sort of disclaimer/reality check contract to hand over to potential one-night stands so that there would be ABSOLUTELY NO CONFUSION ABOUT THE SITUATION. Attached to the One-Night Stand Contract would also be a copy of The Rules of Fuck Buddies since the rules are very similar. We want to make sure that there would be ABSOLUTELY NO CONFUSION ABOUT THE SITUATION, WHICH IS DISTINCTLY NOT A RELATIONSHIP.

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We all know one of those people. Someone perfect. She is smart, gorgeous, sexy (yet modest), funny, and sweet. Most people can’t hate someone like this because she’s so nice. But I can. That’s the great thing about not being perfect–no one is surprised when you say things that prove yet again what a far cry you are from “decent human being,” let alone “respectable” or “perfect.”

That person swimming in fabulousness is so fucking perfect it makes me shit. She got married at twenty two (and will probably live happily ever after, damn her), got the perfect job right out of graduation, by age twenty six has saved up enough money for a down payment on a beautiful house in an area with an excellent school system for the wonderful 2.3 children they will have (also perfect, right down to a short labor and getting potty trained as soon as they can stand), and by twenty-eight has an amazingly $ucce$$ful career without having sacrificed her family or her sense of self. And to top it off, when she’s fifty years old I’m sure she will look fantastic (no botox or control-top underwear necessary) and still have orgasmic sex three times a week.

The bitch.

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The Kegel Facts is one of my all-time favorite posts. I’m reposting it now because 1) I’m tired as fuck, 2) at the original time of publication, there were only about 100 readers a day (there are now about 1300 a day), so I don’t feel like a complete lame-ass for linking to my archives, and 3) it’s funny as hell. It still makes me giggle over a year after writing it. And I revised it so now it’s even more tinkle-yourself inducing.

For those of you who are out of the loop, I wrote The Kegel Facts in response to The Chuck Norris Facts. He is so badass that his MC Hammer pants can roundhouse kick you by themselves.

While sitting at my desk late last night I realized what great potential I had to get into mischief. It was midnight and I was left in a huge empty office full of things to fuck with. My very creative and vindictive mind had no choice but to wander and cackle maniacally as I ate random people’s food found in their desks.

Oh what a damn fine time to be a cubicle monkey. Dozens of little schemes came to mind throughout the evening, followed by more this afternoon when I was fuming over my boss surfing eBay (while I get glared at for spending more than forty-five seconds on Weather.com). I will have fun at the office tonight deciding which to do to a few targeted coworkers:

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Please excuse the recent posts that are full of piss and vinegar, but I’m sure you can understand that I WOULD BE PISSED WHEN SOMEONE PLAGIARIZES THINGS I WROTE. And not just one post, but like FIVE–and that’s just what I saw before she set her profile to private (which is not the same thing AS DELETING MY POSTS Little Miss “Just Because I’m Hiding, She Won’t See Me!! Tee hee hee heeeeeee!!!” I AM NOT DUMB. I AM PISSED).

So let’s revisit a Happy Place. A sexy happy place that smells like Russian. This is the story of how we met, and this is down the road when we were in that grey area between friends and lovers…. I think we fell in the WTF cavern.

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Okay, seriously? DO I HAVE TO SAY THIS AGAIN? It’s someone new this time, and there is no way she can talk her way out of the fact that she is copying my posts and taking credit for it. HEY STUPID MYSPACE GIRL. STOP IT. AND ALL THE OTHER UNORIGINAL POSERS OUT THERE: STOP IT. The linking policy is not that complicated.

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This is going to be a shitty shitty week at work. We have a big meeting to prepare for on Friday. I was the only one working on the account for the majority of the last two weeks, which means everything that isn’t done is my fault. Of course. Blame the sad little cubicle monkey. We have nothing left to live for anyway. Bananas are out of season.

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The other day I was driving home for my lunch break when a song came on the radio that I had not heard in years. We chase misprinted lies, we face the path of time… I recognized it, but couldn’t place the artist.

And yet I fight
and yet I fight
this battle all alone

I just forgot to breathe.

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Many of you commend me for being so honest on my blog. I’ve written once before about how I have to be so open here to make up for how closed-off and distanced I am in person, even with very close friends. Many of you say that you feel like you know me so well after reading me for a couple weeks or even a couple days. And I love that, I do, but sometimes I feel like I’m only telling half the truth because even on the blog there are things I have to hide. Out of vanity? self-preservation? embarrassment? I don’t know.

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I’m changing webhost providers tonight. If there are any technical WTFs over the next 48 hours, no need to worry, I’m on it.

Vix