The Wonderful Wizard of Poor Time Management

It seems silly to be single with no kids and only one job and say, “I don’t have the time or energy to deal with starting a relationship.” But I’ve just gotten home at 7 p.m. after an unexpectedly late evening at work, which isn’t unusual. I don’t feel like talking to anyone, and the only thing I want in me is tater tots and a glass of wine. And then I want to go to sleep like the fat, tranquilized bear that I am.

I’m having one of those weeks where I can’t understand how anyone has time to do anything, ever. You people are fucking wizards, I swear.

Professionally insecure

I had an insecure day at work, and I’m attempting to reason with the cunt-y part of my brain that’s telling me I’m complete shit at the ONE marketable skill I allegedly have.

But the thing is, the bitch in my brain doesn’t run on logic. So, “Hey, you still HAVE the job, and you just had a good annual review and got a raise!” And she’s like, “NOPE, doesn’t matter. You suck at everything and should just hole up in your hermit fortress and stare at the walls forever. Oh, and you’ll do that ALONE, as long as we’re planning.”

This part of my brain should be in Congress. Can’t tell that bitch SHIT.

But also, fuck you, Brain. I’m gonna give you sleep, then baked goods in the morning, and tomorrow will be better. You go ‘head and try talkin’ trash with a face fulla scone. Wench.

I got your package right here!

Ahem, so… I have most packages delivered to my office, and my coworker just handed me this one.

It’s a candle. But that’s…REALLY not what it felt like…

My junk, my junk, my junk is on fire…

I’m shopping online for an ugly sweater for an office party, and came across this dress. It lives in the Target juniors’ department, and…seems to indicate that the wearer’s loins are burning…?

Bold choice, Target.

“OK, Google — when will you quit bullshitting?”

I often refer to Google as my religion, so I really hope they pull their heads out of their asses here.

‘Cause, yeah, I can have principles and change my email addresses and use different search engines and storage sites, but…it’s fucking Google. No one cares. I’d be like those assholes who tried to boycott “Hamilton” — sure, sweetie, good luck with that.

Also, I mean…you can’t get that data? Can’t you just Google it?

Making time for what matters

Texting a friend:

Me: “I just turned down paid overtime work for this weekend in favor of sex and ice cream. #priorities”

Friend: “Those are the clearest priorities I’ve ever imagined.”

The fastest way to a woman’s heart is to question her life choices.

My OkCupid profile says I’m an editor. Today I got this first message: “Hi there is there still a big demand for editors? I’d honestly like to know.”

Ahem.

*finger guns*

That one’s free.

Friends/Fluffers

I’ve been discussing career goals with a friend, because I’ve been feeling totally stuck in what I’m doing, and I feel seven kinds of shitty** about it, just allllll the self-doubt/loathing, staring down the barrel of a TON of work and thought to figure out what my next move should be, because I have no idea. 
Friend’s response:

“I have always thought someone should pay you lots of money just to be you and write what you already write. I don’t know exactly who that should be — Cracked, Bustle, Jezebel, The Mary Sue, various advertisers for your personal blog? — but I very much want it to happen. I know you do too, I just thought you should know that I read a LOT online and I would read all your stuff even if I didn’t know you. Just saying.”

Awwwww! You guys! ❤

I mentioned this predicament to another friend, and SHE complimented my writing, too!

“I know you’re not fishing for compliments, but I LOVE reading you. Anything you write is super smart, quick, and has so much relatable stuff with large dose of humor and humility. You seem like you have a treasure of stories you could write about family, men, and relationships. WRITE!!! For me.”

I was not fishing (nor am I now), but DAMN, I should’ve done this YEARS ago! Ego. Boosted. My friends are like my self-esteem fluffers!

** There actually does exist a chart ranking the seven kinds of shit. The reason I know this is not as disgusting as you might think, but, I mean, possessing that knowledge is really never IDEAL… I’m going to stop talking now.

#NoPants for the win.

One of the many things I love about being a woman: I’m at work, wearing a dress similar to this one.

So basically I’m, like, six strategic seams away from wearing lingerie or a long tank top in public, and everyone’s totally fine with it.

Mentally awash in acid wash

I just heard “Livin’ on a Prayer” on my Internet radio at work, and even though actually dancing on my desk is frowned upon, there was some serious gyrating and hair tossing in my head, and my desk chair got the ride of its life.

#JerseyRepresent #ILiveInPhillyNowButStill